Lessons In Potions, History, Love Or Otherwise
by dragonprnzess
Summary: An unwilling Katie Bell has been ordered to tutor Oliver Wood. Surprise for Katie: She may be able to teach him when it comes to academics, but she's going to have to let someone else be the teacher when it comes to an entirely different subject: love.
1. Mr Midget Extraordinaire

A/N : Heya, peeps! Well, the idea for this story came to me one day, during a particularly boring History lesson in school. I guess my teacher will never know just _how much she's taught me. (If only I could be this enthusiastic learning about how the British conquered Penang, Singapore and Malacca.) I don't think I have to ask you guys what EVERY single other author out there asks for – reviews!!! So please, please, PLEASE R&R – at least so I know there __are people out there who like my story, and also so I can improve the story. Just a warning : some extremely mild sexual references up ahead. This is basically because the story is told in Katie Bell's POV – and you can't stop a girl from thinking, right? Alright, that's it for now – please review!!_

Disclaimer : Everything and everyone in this story belongs to JKR, except for Adelene Sullivan, and Katie's kick-ass attitude.

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**Lessons In Potions, History, Love Or Otherwise**

Chapter One : Mr Midget Extraordinaire

I walked into the Great Hall and practically started salivating on the spot. Seven whole years in the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I still hadn't managed to figure out exactly who cooked the food for the entire school. It was certainly no mean feat, but whoever it was completely deserved a big, wet kiss right about then.

"Oh, Katie," Adelene moaned, "I'm going to put on SO much weight." I turned to her and whacked her lightly on the shoulder.

Adelene Sullivan is one of my best friends. She's Irish, like me, and we've known each other since the Dark Ages. Well, since we were six, anyway. Same diff. So it turns out my mom and her mom used to go to school together (I'm half and half, and Lene is a hundred percent witchified), and now Lene and I do, too, ever since Lene transferred from her American school during our second year. She's passed on a lot of her American-type slang on to me ever since then...it's kind of like a catching disease. Lene is supermodel-thin, but she's still always worrying, no, _obsessing about watching her weight._

My OTHER best friend, Angelina Johnson, is more of a tomboy. She's a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, like me, and is one of those lucky ones who can eat all she wants and never gain a bloody pound. Not that she even cares.

"So not the drama, Lene," I declared, admiring her body enviously.

Do you have _any _idea how small the skirts that she can wear are?

"Oi! Will the two of you hurry up?" Angelina yelled. She was already seated at the long Gryffindor table – trust her to be one of the first. "Coming, Angie!" Lene called back and continued with her "too much fat in the Hogwarts food" speech. Which I had been hearing three times a day for the past five years.

I sighed and pulled on Lene's arm to hurry her up.

I was about to sit down when a small boy (who looked about five, mind you) ran up to me and actually squeaked, "Beggin' your pardon, ma'am, but are you Katie Bell?"

Excuse me??

"Yes, I am," I replied, noticing that Lene had stopped mid-rant and had a very familiar look on her face, that I had grown very accustomed to in all the years that I had known her. _Oh, no._

The midget, which is how he shall be known from now on (am I clever or am I clever?), exhaled a long sigh of relief.

"The deputy would like to see you in her office right after the feast, ma'am."

_What the...?_

"The deputy?" I repeated, frowning. "Oh! You mean McGonagall?"

The midget nodded. "That'd be about right, ma'am," he replied.

"Alright. Thanks," I told Mr Midget Extraordinaire, who immediately ran away to join his friends (all of whom towered over him) gratefully. Right on cue, as I had expected her to, Lene exploded in laughter.

"Ma'am?" she shrieked. "Did he just call you _ma'am_?"

I rolled my eyes and we sat down on either side of Angelina, who was already halfway through her yearly beginning-of-term ritual which consisted of her chanting, "Feed me feed me feed me," continuously and banging on the table.

"Hullo, ladies," two very familiar voices chimed in unison.

I smiled back at Fred and George, the Weasley twins, as they sat down across from Angelina and I. I mumbled a "Hey" and waited for one of them to inquire about Lene's current table-banging, tear-streaming condition.

I didn't have to wait for very long.

"What's she going on about THIS time?" George asked, jerking his thumb at Lene, who was _still _finding my encounter with the midget extremely amusing.

"This little git called me ma'am, and Lene seems to find it hilarious," I replied, giving them a "go figure" look.

"Nothing new there," Fred remarked, and I nodded in agreement, while George just smiled fondly at Lene.

I should probably take this opportunity to explain what the hell Fred and I were talking about. Basically, Lene is a famed laugher – if there even is such a word. If there isn't, then Lene created it the second she was born into this world. The slightest little thing sets her off, and once she starts laughing she can't stop. May woe betide anyone who stands in her way. This proved to be very unfortunate once, when we were in our third year and were studying Cheering Charms (it took her seven whole hours to calm down and she hasn't stopped since). It's lucky she has these really cute dimples that are _to die for_; it draws the boys in like magnets – namely, one Mr George Weasley.

"Hey...I've got an idea," George suddenly said, and he had a very familiar twinkle in his eyes.

Fred grinned. "I'm right behind you, Forge," he laughed.

And then he stopped laughing.

And the both of them stared at Lene straight in the eye, looking very serious indeed.

In fact, the two looked so intensely – _morbid_, for lack of a better word, that Lene immediately quietened down, mainly because the twins looked dead serious, which happened, like, never.

Lene was now looking at the twins with a slightly perplexed expression, completely attentive to whatever they were about to say.

George cleared his throat and Lene's violet eyes flew to his brown ones. The three were eerily quiet.

Then George broke the silence by simply saying, "Tissue."

That was it.

_Tissue.___

And Lene's eyes widened and she just burst into peals and peals of fresh, ringing laughter. She quietened down enough for Fred to say, "Spoon," with an extremely serious (of course) look on his freckled face and that started her off aaaaalllllllllllll ooooovvvveeeeeerrrrr again.

"Sausage."

"Retainer."

"Cashew."

"Monkey."

I turned away from the twins, who were having a lot of fun with their new game, to talk to Angelina – since it appeared that Lene would be indisposed for quite a while.

"So, Angie, why do you think McGonagall wants to see me?" I asked, raising my voice slightly to be heard over the racket the twins were making.

She paused mid-'feed me'-ritual to look at me with raised eyebrows. "_Minervie _wants to see you?? What on earth for?"

I chuckled at the look on Angelina's face. Really, I totally understood why a guy like Fred could go crazy over her.

"That's what I'm asking _you_. I wouldn't be asking, if I didn't know, would I?" I replied.

Angelina shrugged. "I suppose. Maybe Minervie's just sexually frustrated and wants to do the dirty deed with you in her office," she said, giving her usual twisted point of view of things.

I scrunched my nose up in disgust. "Angie! That's disgusting!" I cried.

That immediately got the twins' attention.

"What's disgusting?" they both quickly asked.  
 Angelina and I rolled our eyes.

Boys.

By the time I reached the door of Professor McGonagall's office, slightly out of breath, I was feeling very full and extremely contented. You couldn't really blame me, either, because all the dishes we had been served for dessert that night had been absolutely delicious. So I was just completely at peace when I opened that door and stepped into McGonagall's office.

You can imagine my utter surprise when the first person I saw in there was not Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but Oliver Wood – the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team which I was on, and fellow seventh year.

The surprise on my face must have shown, because Oliver calmly said, "I know I don't look a whole lot like McGonagall, but I'd like to think I'm a whole lot...prettier." He nodded towards a chair next to his. "Sit down," he invited in his thick, Scottish brogue, "I think she'll be a while."

I accepted his invitation and sat down, feeling a little awkward and definitely more than a little nervous – the two of us were now sitting next to each other, facing Professor McGonagall's desk; and this did not look good.

"So how was your summer?" I asked him.

Oliver shrugged. "Went to visit my grandparents back in Scotland. Played some Quidditch with me boys, nothing much," he replied indifferently. "How was yours?"

My eyes lit up in excitement.

"Lene's parents took the both of us to America. Can you believe it?? The shopping there was _amazing_." I then launched into a lengthy explanation of my shopping escapades, to poor Oliver's dismay, judging by the look on his face. Really, every single boy does that whenever I start to talk about clothes, and I don't have the faintest idea why.

A sudden clearing of throat interrupted me as I began to start on Gap's FABULOUS summer collection, and Oliver looked up and said, "Professor," with great relief.

Hmph.

See if I get him a Christmas present this year.

The butterflies in my stomach began to flutter again as Professor McGonagall sat down in front of us.

"Er...good evening, professor," I gulped nervously.

McGonagall nodded her head in acknowledgement.

"Miss Bell, Mr Wood."

She paused, as if to survey the expressions on our faces.

Then she turned to me and I had a sudden thought, "I am _doomed."_

"Miss Bell, I assume you do not know why I have asked you to see me."

Um, DUH?

"A few days ago, Mr Wood here and his parents had the liberty to come in to the school to meet me, due to his...unsatisfactory examination results."

"They weren't that bad, professor, honestly," Oliver interrupted weakly.

McGonagall glared at him for a second. "Silence, Wood." She turned back to me. "Mr Wood's final examination results last year were far below the school's standard and expectations. As the both of you shall be sitting for your Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests this year, I am very worried about your academic prowess, Wood – and if I may so, especially in your two worst subjects, Potions and History of Magic, in which you scored six and thirteen percent respectively last year."

I looked at Oliver in surprise.

Ooooh. That sucked.

So I said so.

"Dude. That sucks," I told Oliver, who just narrowed his eyes and made a face at me.

McGonagall decided to be smart for once and ignored us.

Children being children and all, right?

"I have decided, Wood," McGonagall continued, now addressing Oliver, "that you will need a tutor to help you in those two subjects. And who better to tutor you than the smartest witch in your year?"

My eyes widened. Whoa. Who was that?

"Wow, Oliver," I commented, "you'd better not give her a hard time. The poor girl probably won't like it if you don't stop prattling about Quidditch. I wish you, and her, the best of luck."

McGonagall and Oliver looked at me as if I were insane.

"What?" I asked.

"She's talking about _you_, Katie," Oliver explained as if he was talking to a four-year-old.

The sudden reality check hit me with the impact of a nuclear missile. "What?" I blurted out. "You can't be serious." I looked at McGonagall with pleading eyes. "You _can't _be serious!"

"I assure you, Miss Bell, that I am quite serious," she responded, giving me a tight smile.

"What's wrong, Katie?" Oliver asked.

Was.

He.

KIDDING?!

"I – I can't TEACH! That's just so...so..."

"Your new job as Mr Wood's new tutor."

"No, actually, I was searching more for the word 'teachy'."

"'Teachy'?" Oliver looked at me strangely. "That isn't even a real word."

"Exactly!" I declared, "You see? I'm making up words! That isn't something the smartest girl in seventh year would do! And...and...Oliver doesn't even need a tutor! Did you not hear him, professor? He totally knew the word 'teachy' was a hundred percent made up. Well, ninety-nine percent anyway, 'teach' is a word but the letter 'y' after it –"

"Miss Bell," McGonagall interrupted. "If you go on like this, I am going to very much doubt the capacity of your brainpower."

"I can go on if you'd like," I quickly replied. "Please don't, Katie," Oliver cut in.

I ignored him and promised McGonagall, "Oh, there's MUCH more where that came from, professor."

"That really isn't necessary, Miss Bell," she replied, looking rather pissy about something. It could have been me, but...nah. _Please. Everyone loves me. Right? Right??_

"Both of you can arrange a tutoring schedule together. Mr Wood _must have a minimum tutoring time of five hours per week, per subject," McGonagall said firmly._

Oh, easy for _her _to say! All SHE had to do was sit around, look constipated and say, "I am woman, hear me roar!"

Or something to that extent, anyway.

McGonagall turned to look at Oliver. "I hope you will work hard and co-operate with Miss Bell, and that you will take your N.E.W.T.S. very seriously."

I nearly snorted then and there. She 'hoped' my ass. If Oliver didn't work hard enough, she'd send him packing before you could say, "Quidditch."

"Of course, professor," Oliver replied politely and smiled at her.

McGonagall nodded to the two of us before rising from her seat, signalling the end of our little congregation.

"You may return to your common room. The new password is 'Pookiebear'."

"_Pookiebear_?" I asked incredulously.

"Er...yes. We put a house-elf in charge of house security this year. I believe its name was Winky." McGonagall didn't look too pleased about this.

"Why on earth was a _house-elf _put in charge of something as important as house security?" Oliver asked.

"Way to go, Oliver!" I silently cheered. My thoughts exactly.

"Headmaster Dumbledore insisted on it," McGonagall replied, definitely looking more than a little uncomfortable now.

Maybe she wasn't used to being in such close terms with students. You wouldn't have guessed it, judging by her years of experience. Her MANY years of experience, might I add. Have you _seen _her wrinkles?! Or maybe she and Professor Dumbledore are having a secret, sordid, torrid love affair. And she is secretly pregnant with Dumbledore's baby and will break the big news to him tonight, when he visits her bedchamber ready for some sweet monkey love. As you can tell, I am a HUGE fan of romance novels. Angelina says they're trashy. I can't imagine why.

Of course, I didn't say all this out loud. Oliver and I just stood and exited McGonagall's office with a brief, "Thank you, professor." We both stood in the empty corridor outside McGonagall's office for a second, pausing to recollect our thoughts.

"Are you really happy about this arrangement, then?" I finally asked him.

He looked at me, with a slightly surprised expression on his face. "Well, I don't see what the big fuss is all about. After all, we ARE already spending time together during Quidditch practice. What difference would this make?"

"For one thing, this time _I'll _be _your tutor. You're not going to be ordering me about any more," I pointed out._

"That's true," he commented, looking slightly amused.

How could he be AMUSED at a time like this?!

"You _are _going to be my teacher now, aren't you?" he continued.

Now THAT snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Don't call me that!" I snapped.

"Call you what?" he asked, looking completely mystified.

I didn't really blame him.  I wasn't making a whole lot of sense right then.

"Your teacher!" I exclaimed.

Oh, damn.

Ohhh, damn.

There was that oh-I'm-so-amused-bow-to-me-greater-than-thou look on his face again.

It would have been almost cute if it hadn't been for the screwed-up situation I was currently in.

"What's wrong with that?" he said – clever look ahoy!

"It's just so...old," I replied composedly, trying my very hardest to ignore The Look.

"Old?" Oliver laughed.

The Look.

"Yes, old," I said placidly.

The Look The Look The Look!

"You're daft," Oliver grinned.

"Not as much as you," I shot back.

THE LOOK!!!!!

"Right now I'm wondering why _you_, of all people, aremy teacher, Katie Bell," Oliver remarked.

"_Tutor_!" I exclaimed.

The two of us began to walk in the direction of the Gryffindor common room.

"Same thing," Oliver said, with The Look written all over his face. "Oliver..." I whined. "Fine, fine. Right now I'm wondering why you, of all people, are my _tutor_," he sighed, dragging out the word 'tutor' into five syllables. I groaned.

"So am I, Oliver. So am I."

A/N : So, how was it? R&R! Oh, and if you liked this story, please check out my other story, Under Your Spell. It's a Hermione/Draco romance fic that desperately needs guidance (in my opinion). Ciao for now!


	2. Sanitation Engineers And Garbage Men Are

A/N : Sorry about the lack of updates, but I've just finished sitting for my first-term examinations at school! Argh – unlike Oliver, who's completely failed his Potions and History of Magic papers, I get the feeling I've completely screwed over my Geography paper. Dammit. Also, if anyone was wondering or confused by the story's timeline, this is set during Oliver and Katie's seventh year (Adelene, Angelina and Alicia Spinnet's seventh year as well) which would be during the third Harry Potter book. However, please note that I am NOT following along with the events that actually happened in the third book e.g. Quidditch matches, Dementors and stuff – this is just the timeline of the story. Comprehendo? Okay, here's the chapter – please R&R, and ask your friends to read this as well!

Disclaimer : It's kind of understood, right?

Chapter Two : Sanitation Engineers And Garbage Men Are One And The Same

I was sitting down with my usual clique – Lene, Angelina, Fred and George - the next morning as we all ate our breakfast ravenously.

Well, Angelina, Fred and George were eating breakfast ravenously.

I was keeping myself busy swirling the food on my plate around and Lene wasn't eating at all. I knew why, too. You couldn't expect me to not know why when she kept me, Angie and Alicia up all night moaning about how she could feel all the fat she had consumed at the welcome back feast  settling in her stomach.

_Ugh._

It was all I could do to refrain from having my face fall face-down into Angie's huge, golden bowl of cereal next to me.

About that, aren't they afraid the milk will rust the gold or anything? I don't see why the school has to waste good money on buying golden crockery when it could spend it on much better uses – like paying for REAL tutors to come in and tutor the weaker students.

Then _maybe_ I wouldn't have to tutor OLIVER FRANSISCO WOOD, ESQUIRE!

I still can't believe it. Lene couldn't stop laughing last night when I told her and Angie about this whole arrangement (what else is new?). Even Angelina was laughing, though. You could have sworn I had actually said something remotely _funny._

Why does Oliver have to be so _stupid_??

I suppose that's rather mean of me, but you can hardly blame me. If he hadn't done so badly in his final examinations last year, I never would have had to go through all this trauma.

Because that's what this is!

Trauma!

Severe emotional trauma!

I will probably be put into a mental institution when I'm like fifty because of an after-effect of all this happening to me!

And it will all be Oliver's fault.

The bloody bastard.

All this thinking is probably what made me go, "I will NEVER have your children," when Oliver sat down across from me.

He looked at me in surprise.

"I beg your pardon??"

_Look_ at him, pretending he doesn't know what I'm talking about.

The rest had stopped their talking and eating, staring at Oliver and I with an avid and extremely obvious interest.

I narrowed my eyes at Oliver, and prepared myself to deliver a very cool line that would leave him reeling in awe and shame in not having done better in his exams.

"If you were my dog, I wouldn't feed you!"

Oh, wonderful.

Lene gave me a look that plainly said "You _do_ know you're insane, right?" and I shot back a "Well you're the one who laughs until the Hippogriffs come home!" look, which she responded to by shrugging and flipping her hair.

Oliver shook his head. "You can do better than that, Miss Smarty Arse."

My eyes widened.  "What was that, Wood?" I demanded.

Oh, shit.

I suppose it was my fault that he gave me The Look and said, "Nothing," smugly.

I just _hate _that look!!

I would have delivered yet another super-smooth insult if Angie hadn't laid a warning hand on my arm, and I swallowed back a shout of, "Eat dirt, Quidditch boi!"

"Anyway, Bell, I'm here to work out our tutoring schedule, and after that I want to talk to you four –" he glanced briefly at Fred, George and Angelina, "about Quidditch practices this year."

Fred and George immediately made a show of trying to get as far away from Oliver as possible (which, sadly, did not really work as he was sitting right next to them), and this ended in them toppling off the bench and onto the stone floor.

Ouch.

While a few Hufflepuff boys got up to help Fred and George, Oliver turned his attention back to me.

"So, when would be good for you, ma'am?" he teased.

Lene choked and burst into laughter, spraying pumpkin juice everywhere.

"Lenie!" Hermione Granger, a bookish third-year girl, screamed as a huge gob of pumpkin juice landed with a splat on a page of her open book.

"_What is with guys calling you ma'am?" Lene shrieked in mirth, as tears began to run down her rosy cheeks._

George was looking at her fondly, with a sort of dreamy look on his face. It was pretty sweet, you know.

"I was only joking!" Oliver exclaimed, looking at Lene with a look of bewilderment.

I waved at him to get his attention.

"Forget it, Oliver. It happens all the time. Look, back to the subject at hand, I'm supposed to tutor you for Potions and History of Magic for five hours per week, per subject – is that right?"

Oliver nodded in agreement.

"Well, I suppose that would be...two hours a day, an hour for each subject," I told him, calculating out everything in my head.

"Five days a week, then? That works out perfectly with our Quidditch schedule. Which brings me to what I wanted to talk to everyone about – practices this year will be on Mondays – today included, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays. You can tutor me after practices, then."

_Five _practices a week so early in the year? Merlin, and we thought he couldn't get any worse.

"Oliver, five times a week? Are you insane?" Angelina, who had been listening to our conversation, protested.

Oliver shrugged.

"Ask McGonagall. It's not like I was _begging _to be tutored by Miss Smarty Arse here."

Before I could say anything in my defense, Fred, who had already sat himself back down again, whacked him on the shoulder. "Not the tutoring, the Quidditch practice, you dumb git. Today's our first day studying again after an extremely long break of eating, sleeping and putting dog dung in our brother's bed, and you want us to practice _already_?" Fred said, helping himself to more roast beef sandwiches.

"Look, Fred, this may only be your sixth year, but it's my last. I want to win that ruddy Cup before I leave school," Oliver said forcefully.

"Have we missed a lot?," a soft voice cut in from behind me.

I turned in surprise to see Alicia Spinnet and Harry Potter standing behind me. Oliver must have told them that he wanted to talk to them, too.

Angelina, Lene and I scooted down the bench to make room for the two of them. They sat down next to me to a chorus of "Hello"s and "Hi"s, and a "You smell" from Fred and George.

Harry grinned and shot back, "So do you."

Harry's a cute kid. He's actually this big shot celebrity when it comes to wizardom, but he really doesn't act it. He always hangs out with Fred and George's little brother, Ron, and that Hermione Granger girl.

As for Alicia, she's one of my roommates like Lene and Angie. We do talk to her, but she keeps to herself a lot, and is pretty quiet. She's very pretty, though, and is going out with the Hufflepuff Quidditch team captain, Cedric Diggory – who is A COMPLETE HUNK!!! I have to admit I was rather jealous when she first started seeing him, but so was every single straight girl in the school. This is probably why most guys don't like him very much – I reckon they're just jealous.

Boys being boys.

Sigh.

I have never understood them, and probably never will.

And you know what?

I don't really want to, either.

As Oliver informed Alicia and Harry about our new Quidditch practice schedule, I turned to Lene, who had FINALLY stopped laughing.

"Lene, shall we go?" I asked her, glancing at my watch, which was currently flashing the words "MOVE YO' ASS, MO' FO'!" in bright red neon lights. Fred and George had gotten it for me for Christmas the year before.

Who else, huh?

Lene nodded and got up from the table.

"Angie, we're going. We have Divination now," Lene told Angelina.

Angelina nodded and began eating again, ignoring Oliver's not-so-little speech about Quidditch tactics.

I bet Harry and Alicia were wishing they had never come over right about then.

And I was going to be spending a _lot_ of time alone with this Quidditch freak until the N.E.W.T.S.!

_Merlin._

Someone up there didn't like me very much.

My feelings soared, as they always did, as I scored another goal past Oliver.

"Go Katesies, go Katesies," Fred and George chanted and zoomed past me on their broomsticks, tugging slightly on my pleated half-ponytail.

I laughed and winked at Oliver, who had just retrieved the Quaffle from its spot where it had fallen on the ground. "Better luck next time, Orli," I called. "Why, thank you, Bell," he replied with exaggerated graciousness, suddenly throwing the Quaffle to me and nearly knocking me off my broom. I stuck my tongue out at him and flew off again to practice passing with Angelina and Alicia.

"Good one, Katie," Alicia commented as I flew up to them.

I nodded in thanks and we began passing the Quaffle to each other, zigging and zagging all over the pitch.

Practice carried on much as usual until finally, Oliver blew the whistle that was hanging around his neck and motioned for all of us to come down to the pitch. We all landed back on solid ground and walked over to Oliver to hear what he had to yell at us today. Hopefully, he wouldn't be too PMSed. I thought we had flown pretty well that day.

We waited for a few minutes while Harry rounded up the Snitch, and while Fred and George tried to patch up a hole in the stands they had made with a Bludger.

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

How unprofessional – how _them._

I'm one to talk, aren't I?

When we were all finally assembled, Oliver shot a quick glare at Fred and George.

"What? It wasn't our fault that one of the Bludgers _accidentally decided to fly right into the stands. Bludgers may be balls, but they do have rights, you know," George told Oliver with a straight face.___

Oliver shook his head and wisely decided to ignore the twins.

"Practice was good today, people. Potter, great time with the Snitch, and Johnson, work on your passing a bit more. Try not to be so...aggressive. I don't want you fouling anyone during a match like you did in third year."

Oh, yeah. Poor Ravenclaw guy hasn't recovered since. Last I heard, he goes around to people singing about how pretty he is. Courtesy of Miss Angelina Johnson, ladies and gentlemen.

"Bell, that was some nice scoring today, and Spinnet, perfect flying. Your turns have never been sharper. As for you two," he looked pointedly at Fred and George, "please refrain from destroying school property from now on."

Fred and George stared at him with innocent looks on their faces.

"Who, us?" they asked.

Hell, they weren't fooling anybody.

Oliver clapped his hands twice. "Alright, you're dismissed," he informed us, and we immediately began walking towards the changing rooms.

I started walking as well, lost in thought about this new romance novel I had just bought during the summer holidays in America. Just as I was getting extremely dreamy about the hero's supposed six pack, someone tugged on my ponytail from behind me. 

I turned around, expecting to see Fred or George because that was their favourite hobby, but to my surprise, saw Oliver standing there instead.

Oh, _no_.

I had almost forgotten about the tutoring.

"Mind if I join you, Bell?" he asked.

I shrugged (well, I couldn't yell "Up yours, grandpa!", could I?) and the both of us began to walk together.

"So...what shall we start with tonight?" he asked.

Oh, gosh. Was I supposed to _know_?

At least he wasn't talking about Quidditch again.

"Um...we could start with Potions, I suppose, if that's alright with you." I looked at him for confirmation.

Oliver nodded and said, "Great, Bell."

You know, now that I thought about it, I wondered why this was such a bad thing. What was wrong with tutoring him, anyway? I mean, it would mean more responsibilities and all that – _shudder _– but other than that, nothing much would change between us.

Right?

Right??

Oh, nuts.

It had to be eleven o'clock.

It _had _to be.

I looked down at my watch which currently displayed the words "YOU SO WISH" and groaned inwardly.

This stupid session seemed to have lasted forever.

We were now on History Of Magic, and had thankfully gone through that night's Potions lesson, which involved a fifteen-minute long argument with Oliver on whether 'bluebottle wings' and 'wings of a bluebottle' were the same thing.

"And so, in the year of 1544, the local citizens of Humdinger Harbour decided to stage a protest against the Muggle Ambassador To The Wizarding World, Sir Charleston Humpalot IV. The protest was carried through by a few extremely brave wizarding members of society strapping themselves to a batch of Bombadilly Bazookas, that explode upon contact with corrupted Muggle politicians and/or reformed Muggle sanitation engineers, which both applied to The Muggle Ambassador. Bell, what's a sanitation engineer?"

Damn, was he talking to me?

"Sorry?" I asked, feeling rather flustered at being caught not paying attention to him.

He gave me The Look and repeated, "What's a sanitation engineer?"

"A garbage man," I replied.

My God, this guy was daft.

"But what do they have against garbage men?" Oliver asked me.

Was he joking?

"They don't _have _anything against garbage men."

"Then what do they have against sanitation engineers?"

"They're the same thing, Oliver."

"What, the wizards and sanitation engineers?"

_Are you there, God? It's me, Katie._

"No, Oliver. Garbage men and sanitation engineers are the same thing. It just so happened that Sir Charleston Humpalot IV was a corrupted Muggle politician AND a reformed sanitation engineer, so the Humdingers decided to use a Bombadilly Bazooka against him instead of anything else that may not have worked as well. Do you understand?"

Oliver pondered what I said for a minute, biting his lip and frowning like a little boy.

He actually did look rather adorable...

"Okay, so Bombadilly Bazookas have something against Muggle politicians and sanitation engineers?"

Ohmigod.

Did I just think that he was adorable?

I was _so _wrong.

"NOONE has anything against anyone, Wood! Get that into your head! Just memorize the dates and the facts, alright?" I said, feeling very frustrated. You couldn't blame me, either.

"Alright, alright, Bell...still don't understand what politicians and garbage men have to do with each other, though...this Humpalot guy sounds like a daft little bugger to me...Muggles are weird..." Oliver muttered, going back to his book.

"Hey, I happen to be half-Muggle," I told him defensively.

"And look how you turned out," he responded calmly, raising his eyebrows at me.

Ooooh how I just hate The Look.

"Stop looking at me like that!" I exclaimed and pouted.

Oliver put the book down again and asked, "Looking at you like what, Bell?"

Like that, you senseless buffoon.

"Orli, why do you call me Bell?" I asked instead.

Oliver shrugged. "I'm your Quidditch captain, aren't I? It sounds more professional somehow."

Oh, wow. Great excuse.

"Frankly, it's stupid, Oliver. Be normal and call me Katie."

"Fine, fine, _Katie_, ma'am," he smirked, giving me The Look again.

It was so freaky the way that stupid, STUPID Look drove me insane.

And he was _so_ lucky Lene wasn't there to hear him call me ma'am.

"Back to your book, Quidditch boy," I ordered, checking my watch again, that now said "I BET YOU HATE ME RIGHT NOW". "Too right I do," I murmured softly, whacking it on the table once for good measure.

"What are you doing?" Oliver asked curiously. He was looking at my watch that was currently displaying the word "OW".

Hah.

Take that, you stupid piece of civilisation.

"Nothing," I quickly replied. I didn't want him to think I was crazier than he already thought I was.

Whoa, wait.

Why do I even care what he thinks about me?

Before I could even begin to ponder that thought properly, the message on my watch suddenly changed to "HOME FREE, YOU LUCKY BITCH!" and I exhaled a sigh of relief.

Ffffffiiiiiiiinnnnnnnaaaaaalllllllllllllllyyyyyyy.

"Time's up, Orli. Let's both get some sleep. Make sure you've memorized the Humpalot Revolution by tomorrow night, you hear me?" I said, getting up from the table and stretching gratefully.

Oliver rolled his eyes.

"Whatever you say, Bell."

"Katie."

"Katie. Katie. Kaaaayyyyyytttteeeeeee. Why, hello, Katie! Hullo, Katie. Greetings, Katie. How do you do, Katie? Sing a song of Katie. Katie had a little lamb. Katie Bell sitting on the old gum tree. Bloody hell that sounds weird."

"Oh, _shut up_."

A/N : Haha, how was it? Please, please do me the hugest favour and review! Tell me what you want to happen to Oliver and Katie! How fast should I develop their relationship? Any suggestions, comments, even flames are welcomed. I really hope you enjoyed reading that as much as I did writing it ("Sing a song of Katie...")! And if anyone wants to know, yes, I am writing Oliver's character based on His Holiness Sean Biggerstaff. You know The Look that Katie hates so much? I was actually thinking of that look Sean gave in the first movie when he saved the Quaffle. You should know which look I'm talking about. Omg I'm gonna miss him so bad in the 3rd movie! Alright, I'm wasted. Ciao!


	3. A Bona Fide Hunk

A/N : Hey, everyone, thank you so much for the positive feedback. I'm going to be home alone for most of the day which means noone's gonna be here nagging at me to GET OFF THE COMPUTER FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE AND DO SOMETHING USEFUL WITH YOUR LIFE!!! Ahem. Well. I'll just get on with the chapter for now. _Bon_ – er – however you say read in Italian? P.S. Please note that I can't be damned with disclaimers, so if anyone wants to take legal action against me I will say for the last time that IT'S NOT BLOODY MINE, please refer to chapters one and two for your beautiful disclaimers. OK? OK. Oh, and by the way, a little warning for the sake of any Asian readers out there : there is a reference to an Asian girl Katie dislikes in this chapter, she is called a bitch etc. etc. etc., and I have received several complaints about this from people who have taken offense. So PLEASE, people, no offense is meant by this. Note : I am Malaysian myself! I've edited that bit slightly for minimum damage, but this is just a safety net. Thanks for your cooperation!

Chapter Three : A Bona Fide Hunk

It was a Tuesday.

Thank _God._

I was spending my free period lazing around in the common room, nursing my sore muscles from the previous day's Quidditch practice.

Hadn't Oliver ever heard of easing yourself back into the game?

Apparently not.

I was just grateful that I wouldn't have to tutor him that night, and as I lay there, sprawled out on a scarlet and gold carpet in a corner of the room, I silently thanked my guardian angels for that fact.

I mean, really.

I keep asking myself how anyone can be so magnificently thick.

Maybe it's because of all the Quidditch he plays. All the Quidditch he reads, eats, talks and sleeps. I'm surprised Quidditch doesn't flow out of his ears. One day his head will probably explode with all the Quidditch in there.

Wow.

QUIDDITCH KILLS.

Freaky.

But you're not going to see me stop playing Quidditch. It's one of those things you can keep doing three hundred times a day for all of your life and never get sick of.

Not that I've tried it, but you get the picture.

I started as Lene lay herself down next to me with a tired sigh. She groaned and rolled herself over onto her stomach lazily.

"Ice monkey," she mumbled sleepily.

"Huh?" I asked. Lene was prone to talking about utter nonsense, but she didn't look very much like she was in a joking mood. Maybe she had meant to say something like 'diced porky'.

Although when I thought about it, that didn't make sense. either.

"What she said. Ice monkey," another voice explained, and a shadow fell over me as Angelina walked up to us.

I didn't even want to ask.

"How was class?" I asked Angelina, as Lene looked like she had fallen asleep.

"Lene got kept back by Minervie because she turned Cordelia Mey into an ice monkey. Minervie demanded that she turn Cordy Mey back before she left class, but Oliver got in the way and he got turned into an ice monkey as well. Lenie kept trying to turn them back but nothing worked, until Minervie finally realized they were both beginning to melt and transfigured them back herself. Cordy was mighty pissed, I can tell you that," Angelina replied, rolling her eyes.

"That bitch...what did she do to Lene?"

"Nearly cursed Lene with one of those family curses Orientals are brought up with...Oliver stepped in to ensure World War Three didn't start right then and there."

Wow.

Sometimes Lene's life was more exciting than a soap opera.

Cordelia Mey is Lene's arch enemy. They HATE each other. Especially since Cordy has had a crush on George since our first year. She's from Malaysia, this country in Asia where witches and wizards are extremely revengeful if you piss them off in the slightest. Different families bring up their kids with different extremely powerful family curses, so woe betide you if you ever get in the way of a Malaysian witch. Cordy is a complete bitch, and neither I nor Angelina can stand her.

Right then, though, I was concentrating on the fact that Oliver Wood had been turned into an ice monkey.

For some reason, I found that thought extremely amusing.

"Hey, Katie, move over. I have _got _to lie down for a while. I'm sore to the bone," Angelina ordered and nudged me with her foot.

I moved over slightly to allow room for Angie on the carpet.

"So, practice got to you too, huh? You'd better rest up fast because we've got practice again tomorrow," I told her.

"I'd rather die," Angelina declared melodramatically and flung herself down next to me.

The both of us lay there in silence as Lene slept on.

"Why is she so tired, anyway?" I finally said to Angelina.

"She was having a nightmare last night. I don't know what about. She woke me up with all her screaming, but I didn't want to wake you up, as well," Angelina responded in a hushed voice.

I turned slightly to look at Lene.

"You know, I didn't notice this before, but she doesn't look very well, does she?" I said slowly. "In fact, she's looked like this ever since our trip to America. Look at her – she's far too thin to be healthy. Maybe we should talk to her."

For some reason, I hadn't noticed it before, but Lene was much, MUCH thinner than she had been in our sixth year. If she got a bit thinner, she would be skin and bones.

And what had happened to her hair?

As far as I remembered, her auburn hair had always been thick and lustrous, flowing down her back in waves and tangles that I had always been jealous of.

Now it seemed that her hair was much thinner than usual, and now that I thought about it, I seemed to recall a lot of reddish-brown hair in the shower recently.

What was going on?

The evening was cool as I strolled along the lake's edge by myself.

Fred and George had volunteered to come out and walk with me, but I had declined their offer politely (or at least I hoped so). All the calamity brought on by the first few days of school re-ensuing had gotten to me, and this walk alone was helping me relax.

The silence was shattered suddenly by a girl's laugh, followed by another deeper one.

I looked up from the ground to see a couple's silhouette chasing each other in the distance. I blushed and quickly looked away.

As long as they didn't start making out then and there, I was happy.

"Geroff me! Cedric!" the girl squealed as the boy finally tackled her, and I was clued in to who the happy couple were.

Ahhh.

Alicia and Cedric.

I watched with a twisted curiosity as they rolled around on the grass a few times before finally coming to a laughing stop. I could make out the outline of Cedric playing with Alicia's pale-blond hair as the two quietened down, still lying in the grass together.

Gosh.

It was like a scene out of one of my novels.

How utterly sweet!

In a way, I felt sort of guilty that I was intruding on what looked like a 'private moment', but it wasn't like they owned the place. Besides, I could feel another feeling inside of me – was it loneliness?

Merlin.

Maybe it was.

"Katie," a voice suddenly said quietly, and I felt a hand rest on my shoulder.

Startled, I spun around, giving a small scream.

It was Oliver.

"You idiot!" I gasped. "You scared the life out of me!"

My God, was he trying to kill me? I had probably lost ten years in that one second.

"Sorry," he replied, his hazel-brown eyes crinkling as he smiled.

Something happened to my heart at that moment – it began to beat faster. Because for some reason, I had thought about what amazing eyes Oliver had.

"Um...yeah, alright," I said, suddenly feeling very strange all over.

A laugh from the direction of Alicia and Cedric made Oliver look up at them and then back to me.

"Shall we give the happy couple a little privacy, then?" he asked, giving me that Look of his.

I jabbed him on the shoulder and elbowed my way past him back to the school building, hoping that he wouldn't notice the furious blush that had appeared on my cheeks.

Why on earth was I blushing?!

Maybe I was mutating into a cooked lobster.

That would explain it.

"Hey, wait for me, Katie," the ice monkey called as he caught up with me.

Hopefully, the evening was too dark for him to notice my lobster transformation.

"Are you wearing makeup?" Oliver asked curiously.

No such luck.

"What?" I asked him distractedly, pretending not to know what he was talking about and speeding up my steps to the front door.

"You're all red. My mom gets all red when she puts on makeup," he responded with all the innocence of a little boy.

Maybe he had a little boy's brain, too.

Which would explain the extreme stupidity of He-Hu-Woz-Da-Supah-Iyce-Monkay.

YES.

The door.

I was saved!

The doors magically opened as Oliver and I neared it, and I sped up my steps even more, practically running up the marble stairs to get to the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Katie?" I could hear Oliver yelling.

I looked back over my shoulder for one second to look back at Oliver – big mistake – and managed to somehow lose my footing and tripped, rolling down the stairs painfully.

Before I could go very far, though, I felt two warm arms cradle me, stopping me from rolling and injuring myself any further.

Once again, Oliver was there to watch me completely humiliate myself.

It must have been a sodding curse.

"Katie? Are you alright?" Oliver asked, with this really concerned look on his face.

"Yes, yes, I'm good," I replied, still a little disorientated and dizzy from my fall.

Oliver must have known I was lying, because slowly, he began to walk up the stairs carefully, cradling me in his arms as if I was something as delicate as his mother's china – which, I supposed, ought to be pretty delicate.

At first, I was about to protest, but all of a sudden a voice in my head just snapped to me, "_SHUT. UP._"

So I did.

And for that minute or two that he carried me, I just felt so safe and warm and loved like I had never felt before, or at least not for a very, very long time.

I sighed contentedly and snuggled into his chest further.

Which is when I realized what I was doing.

I WAS SNUGGLING INTO OLIVER WOOD'S CHEST?

Oh, _eeeeeewwwwwwww_.

Yelping, I moved so suddenly that I managed to make Oliver lose his balance, and the both of us fell with two startled cries onto the floor.

By some miracle, I had made us both fall down just after he had gotten off the flight of stairs - I hated to think what would have happened if we'd both still been on them.

I mean, OW.

That didn't mean that I was in a considerable amount of pain, though.

You tend to be in a considerable amount of pain when you have just rolled down an entire flight of stairs only to be sat on by an extremely heavy boy who is a head taller than you.

This meant that I was currently smacking Oliver wherever I could reach him, yelling, "GEROFF ME! GEROFF ME YOU FAT, UNFASHIONABLE BUM!!!"

Oliver sprang off me as fast as he could (this was probably because I was smacking his bum) and started mumbling a thousand and one apologies.

"Just help me get up!" I snapped.

I admit I wasn't being very nice to him, but I wasn't exactly in the best of moods.

Oliver, however, didn't even respond to my nastiness. He just offered me his hand to help me up, and then offered to take me to the Hospital Wing, and took me there, anyway, even when I refused.

He did hesitate for just a second when I warned him, "I won't be able to come to practice tomorrow," but miracle of miracles, he just gave me a brief smile and said, "Then we're going to miss our best Chaser."

This really shocked me to the core, because I knew how important Quidditch was to Oliver.

However, before I could even thank him for his kindness, Madam Pomfrey shooed him away, saying that I needed my rest, and that he could expect me back at practice in a few days.

As I lay there in the Hospital Wing that night, my thoughts kept flying back to Oliver.

How nice he had been to me, and what a gentleman it turned out he could be.

And I had also noticed something when he was carrying me up the stairs : Oliver had muscles.

From what I could feel, I was certain he had at least a four-pack hidden inside those robes of his. And it wasn't even like they were those hugely and grossly disfigured muscles you see in bodybuilding competitions, because he was all slender-like and...well, very attractive.

Somehow, I had only noticed this after more than six years of us schooling together and being friends.

Lying there that night, I realized with a shock what every girl around me had seen, but what I had been completely blind to until that night : Oliver Wood was a hunk.

A total, complete, one hundred percent bona fide hunk.

That I was going to be tutoring for the entire year.

_OH MY GOD._

A/N : Okay, I hope this chappie wasn't too short. Well, I know that compared to most stories it's pretty long, but I guess it's kinda short compared to the other chapters. Sooo sorry if you're not happy with that. But whether you loved it or hated it, please review and tell me how I'm doing (even flames are welcome)! Also, props to Yannie for her "I'd rather die!" line. Okay, that's it from me for now. Hope you liked the chapter! =) Au revoir!


	4. Come Out Of The Closet

A/N : Wow, I had no idea that chapter three would have such a giggly effect on you guys...the reviews were AMAZING. Thank you. They just made me feel really special and giggly and all. Lol. ::blush:: I seriously didn't have that much of a romantic mood in mind when I wrote that chapter, but it's great that it turned out that way. See? The more reviews I get, the faster I update (and the nicer I am to the story)! Yay!!! =) Bet you can tell I'm all grinny and happy and giggly right now. Love iz een ze air! Hehe.

Alright, a section here for Cheryl : This is a fluff, honey – it's supposed to be slightly clichéd. _Slightly.I think. And Katie never did the whole 'I like him wait no I don't slap slap' thing. I swear she didn't! Oh, wait. I think she did. Ugh. Unintentional. And. Uh. Dear? I'm sorry you think Blaise is hot, because he's supposed to be gay in Under Your Spell. Something I will uncover in a future chapter. Ahem._

Okay, okay. I'll stop ranting. Here's the chapter!

Chapter Four : Come Out Of The Closet

Madam Pomfrey has told me that I have bruised my ribs badly and should not get back to normal classes again for at least a day or two. She kept me giving me this nasty glare as she said so, as if daring me to defy her.

As if.

I mean, the lady is scary. But I do love her complexion.

Note to self : Ask Madam Pomfrey what moisturizer she uses.

Right then, though, I was feeling extremely bored. There was just so many times you could count the amount of ceiling tiles in the hospital wing. You couldn't blame me for being bored if all I could actually do without being yelled at by Madam Pomfrey was subtracting the amount of blue ceiling tiles from the white ones, then the white ceiling tiles from the pale yellow ones, then adding them all up together and multiplying them by the amount of the lavender ceiling tiles...etcetera, etcetera.

I wasn't very worried about what I was going to be missing in class that day, because I was already ahead of the professors of every subject by at least six chapters. So it really wouldn't make any difference.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not fanatical about my studies.

Oh, no.

Not at _all_.

I just think that they are really important. I mean, one day when I am all grown up someone may ask me what the wrist movement is to levitate something because...I don't know...a big fat elephant is sitting on Fred Weasley or something.

_Hey_.

That's a cool visual.

As my mind wandered somewhere along the line of pink polka-dotted elephants falling out of the sky and landing _splat _on a million Fred Weasley clones, the door to the hospital wing opened and I felt my mattress sink slightly with the weight of someone sitting next to me.

"Hey, Katie," Angelina smiled, and held out a basket of fruit for me to take.

I sat myself up quickly, grateful for the interruption, and took the basket from her.

"Who sent these?" I asked her, about to bite into a juicy-looking red apple.

"Fred and George," she said, and I quickly dropped the apple back into the basket again.

Weasleys.

"I asked Lene to come along, but she said she isn't feeling very well. Then I told her that maybe she should come to the hospital wing anyway and get checked out by Pomfrey, but she just got really mad at me. Don't know what's up her arse. She says hi, though," Angelina continued, taking the basket away from me and placing it on my bedside table. She sighed and shook her head. "Haven't a clue what's gotten into the head of that girl. How about you?"

I shook my head as well, neck feeling very sore.

Apparently, my ribs weren't the only parts of my body that were bruised, if the bruises all over me were any indication. Somehow, I had managed to miss all this last night, probably due to all the Oliverness in the environment.

Speak of the devil, Oliver walked in at that moment and paused when he saw Angelina there.

"Er...knock, knock. Am I disturbing something?" he asked politely.

Unconsciously, I ran my fingers through my hair, which must have looked God-awful (there wasn't a comb in sight and I had been much too frightened to ask Madam Pomfrey for one) to try and tidy it up a little bit.

"Er...no, not at all," I told him.

Angelina was giving me a weird look as I said this.

What?!

"Well," Oliver said, stepping fully into the room, "I have something for you." He walked over to the other side of my bed so he was right next to me and pushed something into my hands.

I looked down and blinked in disbelief.

"Oooooh! Novels! Thanks, Oliver!" I exclaimed happily, grinning madly and probably looking like a little kid on Christmas morning.

Oliver was my saviour. I didn't know how he had gotten them, but he had – three brand new romance novels that looked like they made up a trilogy. Goodie. The trilogies were always good. I bet you someone had an affair in book two. They always did. And right at the bottom of the pile of books –

"Quidditch Weekly. Best Quidditch magazine there is. I got my issue yesterday, but you can have a look at it first. Just pass it back to me when you're done. Thought you would be bored, so..." Oliver shrugged and grinned bashfully. "Did I do the right thing, then?" he asked anxiously.

I nodded vigorously, sending shockwaves of pain running up my neck.

Let me just take a moment to add that to my list of The Top Ten Stupidest Things You Can Ever Do In Your Entire Life.

"Yes – ow! Ouch, yes, you did, Oliver. Thanks a lot," I said, rubbing my neck cautiously.

"Brill. Well, I'll just be going then. I'll see you both tonight, girls – Johnson, you for practice, and Katie, you for my tutoring. Don't be late, Johnson," he said and left the room.

Ooooh.

Nice arse.

But I probably should not be thinking about that, should I? After all, he _is my friend, student and Quidditch captain. At least he's not my brother or something because that would be just plain GROSS._

"Katie, how did you get him to stop calling you Bell?" Angelina asked me as soon as Oliver left the room.

Gee.

I don't know.

I _asked_.

"I just asked him to, Angie," I replied, giving her a "duh" look.

"Well, I've asked him to call me Angelina a gazillion times and he's never listened to _me_."

"What, you counted?"

Angelina made a face at me. "Ha ha ha. Hilarious. Behold me laughing," she pouted.

I lowered myself onto my pillow again, wincing slightly as I did something to my ribcage. "What's your point, Angie?" I asked her.

Angelina looked like she was about to reveal the meaning of life. Her eyes had gone all sparkly and I just wondered what the hell was wrong with her.

"I think," she said, complete with dramatic pause and all, "that Oliver Wood fancies you."

I did a very good imitation of Lene at that moment, bursting into laughter and all, which really didn't do very much for me seeing that my ribs were extremely, extremely sore, so I didn't know whether to laugh or cry because of the pain I was in.

Angie must have lost her mind.

"And I think you fancy him, too," she continued matter-of-factly.

Oh, yes.

Lost her mind, alright.

Completely.

"You – you're joking, right?" I finally managed to choke out amongst all the tears and laughter.

"Absolutely not!" Angelina exclaimed, looking outraged at the very thought.

Before I could even continue to laugh any longer, Madam Pomfrey came bustling in, looking rather pissed off.

"Out with you, Miss Johnson! Will you not allow your friend some recuperation? Some peace and quiet? Go on, now, shoo!"

Yes.

She actually said 'shoo' to Angelina.

Angelina gave me a superior, know-it-all look as if she knew something I didn't and left the room.

Madam Pomfrey tut-tutted after her.

"Well, really!" she snapped.

Now she was going to spend the whole day ranting and raving about how inconsiderate my so-called friends were.

Ohhhh, yeah.

Just what I needed.

Oh, brother.

Everyone kept dropping in to visit me during the next few days, so it was almost like I had never been away when I was finally released by Mother Hen Pomfrey.

I actually did ask her what moisturizer she used, but she got rather shirty with me.

I wonder why.

In a strange way, I had managed to sort of accept the fact that I was now Oliver's tutor now within the span of those few days, when Oliver would come into the hospital wing for me to lecture him. It wasn't like it was such a huge thing, I suppose, but it made me feel – I don't know. Older. More responsible, and more mature, somehow.

And guess what?

I was even beginning to sort of enjoy our tutoring sessions together.

Or it could have just been because I was stuck there in that stupid bed and there was nothing else for me to actually do.

Not that he still didn't irritate me, though.

I mean, hello? The Look haunted my dreams at night.

But he really was one of those few guys I could really feel comfortable around, and really relate to.

Maybe he was gay.

I don't have anything against homosexuals, though. I'll support him if he ever decides to come out of the closet to me. After all, he _is _my friend – gay or not.

When Madam Pomfrey let me out, classes for the day were over and if I hurried, I would be able to make it to Quidditch practice that would begin in ten minutes. I was held up for a while by a few well-wishers, but I somehow managed not to be TOO late, although I didn't have enough time to tie up my hair.

My stupid, stupid hair.

It's this dull, dirty-blonde colour and I really don't like it. Can you say B-O-R-I-N-G? I keep asking my mom whether I can do something to it with magic, but she's the Muggle half of me and completely refuses. She says I can do something Mugglish to it, but there is NO WAY I am trusting my hair with any of those Muggle hair products.

I may be half-Muggle, and I really don't mind Muggles most of the time, but I'm not stupid.

Hey, I saw what happened to Michael Jackson.

Oliver was in the middle of his usual pre-practice pep talk as I scurried out onto the pitch, already clad in my scarlet and gold Quidditch robes. As I watched, the team dispersed and got onto their brooms, kicking off from the ground.

"Hey! Orli!" I yelled, half-running across the pitch to Oliver, who was releasing the balls into play.

Oliver looked up and I saw his eyes widen in surprise when he saw me. I ran up to him, panting slightly from the exertion of running halfway across the pitch. I'm one of those people who wouldn't be able to run even if their lives depended on it. 

Hey.

I'm fragile.

"Katie? What are you doing here?" he asked, letting the Bludgers go with a warning yell to the rest, who hadn't spotted me yet.

Gee, I wonder.

"What does it look like? I'm here for practice," I replied, looking at him as if he were crazy.

Which he probably was.

Then again, he's gay, and since I've never known anyone who was gay before, for all I know they may be the same thing.

Oliver looked at me strangely. "You're here for practice?" he asked slowly.

"Yes. I. Am. Here. For. Practice," I said slowly, as if I were talking to a four-year-old.

As Oliver had the brain capacity of a four-year-old, I figured he would understand.

He raised his eyebrows, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Really, his expression was bordering on The Look.

Merlin, what on earth was wrong with him?

"Look, Oliver, were you born thick or are you making a special effort today? _What_ is wrong with you? _Why_ are you looking at me like that?" I finally asked, feeling extremely frustrated. "_Why _do you _soddingtorture me with that _stupid, bleeding Look_?" my mind silently added._

Oliver seemed to snap out of his own little reverie and he quickly replied, "Oh, nothing's wrong. Nothing at all. Just...go on, then. Play Quidditch. Fly."

"_Thank you," I thought and reached for my broomstick with my wand hand._

Huh?

Ahhh, ffffffishcake.

"Mind telling me how you're going to fly? Or did you get an invisible broomstick without my knowledge?" Oliver asked, fighting to keep his face straight.

It turns out I had forgotten my broomstick. I had left it in the changing room.

Damn.

The twins would have a field day.

"Well, aren't you going to fly, Katie? Go on, then!" Oliver said in his best innocent voice (which wasn't very good, really) and turned to get on his broomstick.

"Oh, shut up, Wood. You're being a gobshite," I said irritably and started walking away from him as fast as I could, to get my broomstick so I could practice with the rest and also to get as far away from The Look as possible.

"Oh, wait a second, Bell," I heard Oliver call to my back, and a few seconds later, he was hovering in the air right next to me.

"It's Katie."

"You called me Wood; I was just returning the favour."

_Ugh._

I felt like slapping that silly Look off his face, but fortunately I managed to keep my hands in check. That didn't stop my knee from reflexively moving upwards to knee him in the groin, however, but luckily for the both of us he was high enough in the air to avoid a very serious injury to the family jewels.

Looks like his mom could expect to have grandchildren after all.

"Watch yourself, Katie! You can get arrested for that sort of thing, you know," Oliver grinned.

I bet he wouldn't have said that if my knee really had made contact with his you-know-what.

I rolled my eyes and continued to walk again.

Maybe I could get a restraining order against him from the Ministry of Magic. Or maybe the Ministry wizards would just take a good look at his visage and drop dead. The probability of that happening was, after all, pretty darn high.

"Hey, wait, Katie," Oliver suddenly said, and I realized he was right next to me again.

It wasn't fair! I was a girl without wheels!

Or brooms.

Whatever.

"What do you want _now_, Oliver?" I finally asked in his response to humming the Star Wars theme song. "And what in the name of Merlin is up with all the Star Wars-ness?"

Oliver shrugged.

"Figured it might get your attention. Look, Katie, I don't want you flying today. It's too soon. You might hurt yourself," he said seriously, looking at me straight in the eye.

Something about the intensity of his gaze made me squirm and look away for a second or two. "I'm fine, Orli," I muttered, angry at myself for not being able to scream, "HAVE YOU *bleep*ING LOST YOUR MIND?!"

"Would you mind very much, then, if I happened to accidentally poke you in the ribs?" Oliver asked, deadly calm.

Unconsciously, I immediately winced in reflex.

"Don't. Touch. The ribs." I glared at him.

If he ever...

"Exactly. Now you should go back to the Gryffindor tower and rest up so you can practice tomorrow. And if you really have to be in the open that much, just sit in the stands and watch us. There is absolutely no way I am allowing you to practice today. Do you understand me?"

I could imagine Angelina's voice in my head giggling, "Ooh. Strong and sexy – I like, I like!"

"Shut up, Angie."

"Sorry?" Oliver asked.

Whoops.

"Did I say that out loud?" I said, feeling very embarrassed for some reason. I didn't really know why. It wasn't like me at all.

And I should know, me being me and all.

"Look, nothing, Oliver. I just...ugh. Forget I said anything. So I'll just sit and watch, then?" I tried to cover up, feeling very flustered at being caught off guard, when I was usually the one with all the cool catchphrases and witty comebacks.

Naturally, I'm being modest.

What?

"Sure. Go on. I tell you what...I'll sit with you so you don't have to be lonely. I've had enough Quidditch for one day, anyway," Oliver volunteered.

...

Heh.

Hi, mom, just thought I'd call to let you know that the world has officially ended. Hell finally froze over about five seconds ago and I'd love to chat more but I have to rescue my friend Oliver Wood's soul from the clutches of the evil Satanic alien demons from Mars who abducted him from his dormitory last night with their spaceship that looks suspiciously like the one from that Star Trek show you're always watching. Maybe it had something to do with the blue moon last night – you know, with that cow in the tutu that kept jumping over it, don't tell me you didn't notice – and, oh yeah, those flying pigs dressed in tuxedos that wouldn't stop mewing and singing the Irish national anthem? Yeah, those. Alright, I have to go now before God comes down from heaven to give me a speech on the joys and wonders of drug abuse. Yeah. No, I don't want to hear about your affair with the milkman. Alright. Take care. Love you too. I promise I won't rejoice if it rains toads. Okay. _Okay_. Bye.

But I digress.

"You've had enough Quidditch for one day?" I repeated faintly.

Oliver nodded and shrugged. "Now that you mention it. Come on, let's go. Hop on to my broomstick."

It was lucky I wasn't Angie, because she would have _totally _taken that as a sexual innuendo.

"I thought you didn't want me to fly," I replied cautiously.

There _had _to be some kind of trick here.

"You'll be alright as long as you're with me. Besides, it's not that far a distance to the stands. I'm just too plain lazy to walk. Come _on, Katie, don't just stand there," Oliver urged, and pulled on my sleeve slightly._

I was pretty much too dumbstruck to refuse, so I climbed onto his broomstick as he lowered the broom slightly nearer to the ground so I could get on.

"Hold on," he instructed, and I immediately placed my hands around his waist as he flew us over to the stands.

As we flew together, I suddenly became aware of the close proximity the two of us were in. I began to feel very self-conscious all of a sudden, and my body started to tingle all over. My grip around his waist must have loosened, because he suddenly said, "Katie, you're going to fall if you don't hold on tight enough," and quickly placed one of his hands on mine, never looking back the whole time.

Now forgive me for sounding totally clichéd, but the second Oliver held my hand, something happened. I felt like I would be completely safe as long as I was with him, and that even if I let go of his waist completely and did a mad dance on his broomstick I just wouldn't be able to fall. I wouldn't do that, of course. That would be just stupid. But...I don't know. It was what Lene and all my favourite romance novel authors would call a frisson. A frisson that made me feel all warm and gooey and happy inside, not being gross or anything with the 'gooey'. And I felt amazing and so...so...loved.

Oliver was gay, though, so there had to be a problem there.

Hmmm.

Since I was going to be spending the next few hours with Oliver, I felt that this was a good opportunity to discuss his sexuality.

After all, I _was_ charitable, generous and thoughtful.

Again with the modesty.

So as we touched down in the stands and I got off his broomstick, I felt all aglow with my good-heartedness.

"Okay, Oliver...time to come out of the closet," I murmured.

A/N : Aaaaahhhh! Long chapter! Okay, I have NO idea where the whole Oliver being gay thing came from. It just...I dunno. Happened. Hopefully, it'll serve us up a couple of laughs. Or it may lead to some pissing off. I dunno, we'll just see what kind of mood I'm in when I write the next chapter. =) So I hope this chapter was alright. Please R&R and tell me what you thought! Ciaoz, peeps!


	5. Baywatch Starring Minerva McGonagall

A/N : Yay! Loads of reviews for chapter four! Your reviews are my flesh and blood – so please don't stop! Well, I'm glad you all seem to like the whole Katie-thinking-Oliver-is-gay thing. And let it just be known that I have NOTHING against homosexuals – I don't want to offend anyone, okay? Oh, yeah, I happened to read this other Katie/Oliver fic the other day (Riding The Line Between Love And Hate) and I noticed that there are some similarities between my story and the author's. Since I have only just read that story, I hope you realize what I am trying to tell you – I am not copying or trying to copy anybody! Any resemblance is purely coincidental. Okay? Okay. And slight note : this chapter carries on from where we previously left Katie and Oliver, in the Quidditch stands.

Chapter Five : Baywatch Starring Minerva McGonagall

"So, Orli," I began oh-so-casually, "how have you been lately?"

Oliver sat himself down next to me and replied, "Fine, I suppose. And you?"

AHA.

Classic gay reply.

"Oh, I'm good," I responded, flashing him a quick smile. His eyes seemed to flash some sort of emotion for the teeniest second before he smiled back at me and I realized, once again, how handsome our Mr Wood had become. Isn't it awful how all the decent guys turn out gay?

"So why don't you tell me the _real _reason why you're here?" Oliver asked before I could begin The Grand Interrogation.

Oh, no, no one changes the subject on me, Oliver Wood!

The poor thing must be embarrassed. He must have been born with a psychic gene in his body and could sense that I was going to ask him about you-know-what, and decided to distract me! Awww. Poor ickle Orli.

I figured that I, in return for him having such a nice ass, would give him a chance to gather up his courage to tell me The Truth. I wasn't being perverted either, I swear, because you really should have seen his ass. Me-ow!

"Well, I _was _here to play Quidditch, but SOMEONE wouldn't let me. Gee. I wonder who it was," I glared at him.

Oliver waved my accusation aside and laughed.

He obviously missed my point.

"No, I mean, you're always the one starting a whole riot about practicing so much, and now you're just showing up when you have an extremely good excuse to laze about on your hands? Call me crazy, Katie Bell, but this is starting to look very much like a whole who-are-you-and-what-have-you-done-with-my-friend situation."

"Okay. You're crazy," I replied point blank. "Since when do I 'start a whole riot' about practices? I happen to _like _flying," I said defensively.

What was he going on about??? All his gayness was probably making him delusional. I do not recall a single time when I EVERprotested about our practices. Well, maybe once. More or less. Yeah, three times, tops. 

_Okay, so I complain about practices thirteen times a day, SO WHAT?_

"I never you said you didn't like flying; I know you do, and I know you're good at it, as well," Oliver replied.

Awww, stop, Orli! You're making me blush!

"You're better at it than me, you know...and trust me, that's about the biggest compliment you're ever going to get from _me," I grinned and poked him lightly in the shoulder._

"Don't I know it?" Oliver laughed and poked me back. It was one of those Kodak moments and I half expected Colin Creevey (this freaky second-year boy who is practically married to his camera yes I am serious _married to his camera!) to pop out of nowhere and take a picture of the two of us. I wouldn't have minded, though. Because honestly, that day was one of Oliver's better days, and he looked absolutely spiffing. His eyes were sort of twinkling as he looked at me, his cheeks were rosy like a little boy's, his smile was impeccable and his hair didn't look like a piece of crap._

Which was more than I could say for mine, which currently looked like it belonged more in a taxidermist's office than on my head.

"So come on, Katie – tell me why you're here," he continued, getting all serious again. There was something funny about the way he was looking at me, and all of a sudden I noticed that he was clenching and unclenching his right fist – something that he only did whenever he was nervous or under pressure about something.

My Oliver Is Psychic theory must have been right!

He _does _know what I'm going to talk to him about!

"Okay, Oliver...you've got me. I do have a reason for coming down here today," I finally admitted.

Oliver smirked and leaned back in his seat slightly, never looking away from me. "I thought so," he simply said. I noticed that he was still doing that fist thing.

"I came here today," I announced grandly, giving Oliver a superior look, "because I wanted to talk to you about something."

I saw Oliver's eyes flash for a split second and a hot flush rose in his cheeks. Before I could say anything, though, Oliver quickly asked, "You wanted to talk to me? About...something?"

"Yes, Oliver. About something."

Oliver was now blushing so much that I swear you could have fried an egg on his face. I was very tempted to try, for my wand was tucked into the shirt that I was wearing underneath my Quidditch robes, but I felt that he would be embarrassed enough with the whole coming out of the closet thing. Let's just add an egg on his face to the whole situation, why don't we? I mean, if you think about it, this whole thing is pretty screwed up as it is.

Right then, though, Oliver took a deep breath and I knew he was going to come out with something.

Something _major_.

Like a confession about his sexuality, perhaps?

Oooh.

Fun.

I decided to help him along.

"Come on, Oliver," I cajoled. "Just say it. I'll be right there for you."

The blush on Oliver's face darkened even more. Finally, he blurted out, "I...I know what you want to talk to me about."

I blinked. Well, it wasn't what I had expected him to say, but at least we were still on the subject. It looked like it was up to me to state the obvious – that he was a goddamn homosexual. I have to do _everything around here._

I sighed. "Good, Oliver. It's good that you know. Because I, for one, don't think we should keep things from each other any longer. This type of thing may change things between us forever, but I can assure you that I will always try my very best to be there for you. Alright? I mean, there's nothing wrong in being a homosexual. _Seriously. It's not your fault at all, you were just born that way –"_

I stopped mid-consolation at the look on Oliver's face.

He looked like my mom did when she's realized that she's begun to menstruate and has completely run out of tampons.

However, I was _pretty_ certain Oliver wasn't menstruating, so I could pretty much rule that presumption out.

But ya never know.

Oliver appeared to be struggling to say something; his mouth kept opening and closing again like my sister's pet goldfish back home in Dublin. Luckily, he was much more handsome than Bubbles ever would be. Thank the gods for small favours.

"You...you think I'm gay?" he finally spluttered.

Well _yeah_.

"Um...yes, I do. You don't have to be shy about it or anything, we're all friends around here -"

Oliver didn't seem to be appreciating my taking the time to counsel him about this because it didn't look like he was even listening to me. He was holding his head in his hands, muttering over and over, "She thinks I'm gay..._she thinks I'm gay...she __thinks I'm gay...she thinks __I'm gay...she thinks I'm __GAY!!!"_

"Hey!" I exclaimed indignantly. "Are you even LISTENING to me?"

He looked up at me in one sudden movement.

"_YOU THINK I'M GAY?!" he bellowed._

In the distance, I could see a few Quidditch-robed figures hovering in the air turn to look in our direction.

"Hush, Oliver, indoor voice, please..." I murmured nervously, having the grace to feel embarrassed for both Oliver and myself.

"But we're outdoors!" Oliver half-yelled, his face now such a deep shade of red I was half expecting it to blow up at any second.

"It doesn't matter!"

"Then why do you care?"

"Because – _that's not_ _the point_!"

"_Then why are we talking about this?"_

"But we're outdoors!" I mimicked.

"That's completely beside the point!"

"But you _asked_!"

"You didn't have to _reply_!"

"_Then why did you ask?"_

"You could have kept a respectful silence!"

"Respectful to _you_?"

"Why, _thank you_, Katie, I never knew you had it in you."  
"_Do you want me to bleed, too_?"

"Yes, that would be nice, thank you very much!" Oliver glared.

Both of us shot daggers at each other for a few tense seconds when I realized that I had absolutely no idea why we were bickering in the first place. I sighed and ventured, "Oliver..."

I looked at Oliver and felt a jolt in my stomach when I saw the expression on his face. There was something there...something that looked like – _hurt?? But why would he be hurt? It didn't make sense at all..._

Oliver must have sensed that I was looking at him, for he quickly rearranged his facial features into something that remotely resembled a smile and said, "Yes, Katie?"

Oh, Merlin.

I used to think that The Look was bad, but this was an entirely different Look he was giving me – and I did not like it at all.

What was going on?

I didn't have a clue, and I did not like it one bit.

"Oliver...are you okay?" I brought myself to ask.

I was severely tempted to take hold of his hand and comfort him from whatever was bothering him so badly, but something inside me stopped me from doing so – and I didn't know whether that was good or bad.

Why was I so confused?

I never had been in all the years I had known Oliver – things were always straight and done with him, not completely screwed up like the way they were now.

Something was changing.

And I didn't think I liked it.

"It's a lump of dung. I would bet on my life that it's a lump of dung."

"Don't be stupid, Fred, there is absolutely no way it can be a lump of dung."

"And why is that, Angie?"

"Because _that's _a lump of dung."

"What – ahhh. Forgive me, milady. I now see the error of my ways."

"Forgiven," Angelina giggled as Fred kissed her hand.

George and I exchanged looks across the table from each other and made slight gagging noises. No PDAs, please!

"You know, that's really unhygienic. Both of you happen to be _eating," Lene pointed out, crunching on a celery stick. I still hadn't gotten around to talking to her yet, but I didn't think I needed any more stress after that day at Quidditch practice._

Dinner was a time for food, laughter, and discussions about lumps of dung – stress had no place in it.

Fred and Angie were actually trying to spot constellations on the Great Hall's enchanted ceiling – I highly doubted any of the constellations they_ were looking at even existed, but oh well, they could have their fun._

"At least we're eating, Lene. You've hardly touched a thing since breakfast," Angelina shot back.

To our surprise, Lene immediately pushed her vegetable-loaded plate away and snapped, "It's none of your business, Angie. It's mine, and _I'm not hungry!"_

There was an awkward silence for a while which Fred quickly broke with a, "And...er...that looks like Neville Longbottom's grandma."

Obviously, he was running out of ideas.

I left Fred and Angelina to their devices as I discreetly watched Lene look away from the four of us with an unhappy but strangely determined look on her face. I had known her for practically eons, and I knew for sure that something was wrong with her. It just wasn't clear what...

I was distracted by a sudden loud – _very _loud ­– shriek of laughter from Angelina. George was laughing, as well, while Fred looked at them with a puzzled look on his face. "What?" he asked innocently. "They _do _look like McGonagall's boobs!"

I immediately scrunched up my face in disgust and pushed _my plate away. I wasn't feeling particularly hungry any longer._

"That is _disgusting_, you guys," I said loudly, trying to block out the voices of the three perverts around me.

"Katie doesn't like McGonagall's boobs," George sang loudly to the others, who immediately burst into hysterics again.

Through all my disgust, I noticed that Lene wasn't laughing with them – and she was normally the first to join in. I _really _needed to talk to that girl.

"Bounce, baby, bounce baby...b-b-b-bounce baby! Bounce, baby, bounce baby..." they started singing now, extra loudly just for my hearing pleasure.

"LALALA I'M NOT LISTENING," I yelled, scrambling to cover my ears.

"BOUNCE, BABY, BOUNCE, BABY..." they continued in even louder voices.

"HOGWARTS, HOGWARTS, HOGGY WARTY HOGWARTS..." I sang as loud as I could.

Oh, bloody Merlin.

Their volume just increased with every word that I said until I finally gave up hope and realized that I was going to be stuck listening to them talk about Professor McGonagall's physical assets or lack thereof for the rest of the night.

"That is _gross_, people," Lene finally intervened loudly, the ghost of a smile on her face.

"Exactly!" I chimed in. "Some people here are actually trying to eat...and I would really appreciate it if boobs were not mentioned while I am having my dinner, if that isn't too much to ask..."

"Oh, no," Angelina said with a straight face. "Minervie doesn't have boobs to talk about, let alone bounce, actually. She ought to get some sisterly advice from Pamela Anderson and BUY HERSELF SOME CLEAVAGE, FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!"

You would have thought she had said something even remotely funny, as she and the twins immediately cracked up again. At least this time Lene joined them. I was just feeling extremely horrified at the thought of Professor McGonagall in a tight red swimsuit, jogging along a beach in slow-mo...

"Oh, ugggggggh..." I groaned, and immediately dropped the Cauldron Cake I was about to sink my teeth into.

I didn't think I was going to be feeling very hungry that night.

Back to Oliver, he had jumped up and flew away from me as if I had the plague the second my watch beeped, signalling the end of practice. He hadn't even really said goodbye to me – just a quick yell of, "See you later!" and he was gone.

So not only was he stupid, but he was a snob, too.

Charming.

I'm sure his mother must be so proud.

That night we started his tutoring session rather awkwardly; neither of us saying anything much when usually we would be at each other's throats from the first 'Hello'. Metaphorically speaking, of course – we never ever did make it to hello.

We started with History of Magic that night, and somehow managed to survive until it was time for Potions. I seriously could not understand how Professor Snape was able to put up with him. I mean, you'd think a seventeen-year-old healthy teenage wizard from a good, self-respecting family such as his would know what the difference between a tablespoon and a teaspoon is.

Well, I'm not exactly sure, either, but that's totally beside the point.

Even if I _am _a girl and should know better.

"Does it even matter whether I put in a teaspoon or a tablespoon of shredded bat skin? For all you know, it won't even make a difference," Oliver finally said in frustration, running a hand through his hazel-brown hair.

"Let me put it this way, Oliver : you put in a teaspoon, you get a Soronea Potion. You put in a tablespoon, you get McGonagall Baywatch-style."

Oliver's eyes widened slightly as what I said sank deeeeeeeeeeep into his head.

I am pleased to say that he shut up after THAT visualization. Katie – one, Oliver – zilch.

Unfortunately, that was about the only remotely normal exchange of words we had, which, for some reason, bugged me to no end. I needed someone to annoy. And fast.

"Oliver...we need to talk," I finally got the courage to say, putting on a brave smile.

Hah.

I _wish_.

Instead, what came out was more of a, "Allvuhwenerdtolk," in an extremely squeaky voice; cue deep blush.

Oliver, who was in the middle of memorizing a list of ingredients for the Soronea Potion, looked up at me with an expression that I couldn't read. "I beg your pardon?" he asked coolly.

Oh, great.

Was he _angry _at me now?

I sighed. Well, I had already bitten the bullet...might as well go for it and just get it over with. "We need to talk, Oliver," I repeated, with only the slightest exaggeration on my enunciation of the five words. You see? I'm _considerate._

Oliver folded the page of his Potions notebook that he was on and put it down on the table. "We're talking," he replied.

Oh, stop being a smart arse, you smart arse.

"We need to talk about what happened today at Quidditch practice," I continued, blatantly ignoring him. "I want to know why you're acting all weird on me when all I did was state the truth."

Oliver gave me The Stupid, Stupid Look. "The truth?" he smirked. "And what truth might that be?"

The boy has some serious acceptance problems. I think I should suggest to Professor Dumbledore that we need to get a school counsellor because Oliver here definitely needs one. Or more.

"Orli, how many times must I say this? There – is – nothing – wrong – with – being – a – gay!"

He shrugged and replied, "I know."

Well, you don't seem to be acting that way, are you?

"If you know, then why are you acting this way??" I asked him. I was seriously confused. I mean, the guy had more personalities than all the students in the school combined and it was giving me a major headache. Thanks to Oliver, I would probably die young. His great grandparents are probably turning in their graves right this second! But ew.  No talking about dead people. That's just...eeew.

"Well, Katie _dear_, has it ever occurred to you that I may not be gay?" Oliver asked me in a voice so loaded with sarcasm someone as thick as – well, as thick as _him _would have noticed it.

Uh, now that you mention it, no, not really.

"You're not – you're not gay?? I mean, you're, you're really not...gay? Are you serious? No, as in really serious? But...but you're too nice to be straight. That's just not right. There has to be something wrong here – you _have _to be gay!"

"_Really_. I _have to be gay. Well, I have to say, that's a new one on me, Katie, good job," Oliver said calmly, giving me The Look as much as he could without murdering me in the process._

Sniff.

Meanie.

Well, how was I supposed to know? In a way, he should have taken what I said as a compliment, about him being nice and all, but somehow he's managed to completely overlook that fact and blame this all on me. I am so sure this has anything to do with me at all. How positively insulting!

Then again, maybe I shouldn't have accused him of being gay...I mean, that had to hurt in the pride and all.

"Well..uh..whoops," I finally said sheepishly, scratching my cheek nervously.

Oliver gave me another Look before turning back to his book.

There was pin-drop silence, as the two of us were the only ones left in the common room.

A few minutes passed.

"So you're really not gay?" I blurted out. Sorry. I couldn't resist.

Oliver didn't give me a reply for a few minutes, so I assumed he was either too angry to talk to me or his Adam's apple had gone wonky (maybe turned into an Adam's papaya or something to that extent) because of all the tension in the room and therefore, he was not able to say a word.

I, however, was sadly mistaken (as always).

"Katie, are you a guy?" he suddenly asked, putting down his book and packing up his things, refusing to meet my eye while doing so.

Well, really, I knew he was senseless, but this was getting utterly out of hand.

"Er. No," I replied, not very sure whether it was some kind of trick question and if so, how I should answer it.

Oliver got up from his seat and finally looked me in the eye.

"Then I'm not gay," he said seriously.

What?

He walked out of the common room and climbed the steps to the boys' dormitories, leaving me alone in the deserted common room with my thoughts.

Oh.

My.

God.

_What in the name of Merlin just happened??_

A/N : Alright! Another chapter! Sorry if it's a bit late (I don't think it is, though) but I've been very distracted lately e.g. getting on the computer to type this story and ending up watching my anime instead. Hehe. I love Gensomaden Saiyuki. So sue me. Anyways, don't think I have to ask you, please review to tell me what you thought of this chapter! Good/bad reviews acceptable and are welcomed with open arms! ^_^ Must go now before I fall asleep right here. In the words of my I-wish-boyfriend Son Goku (from Gensomaden Saiyuki)... "HARAHETTA!"


	6. Sleeping Beauty

A/N : Muchas gracias for the reviews, people! I know, I know, I don't deserve them; due to lack of updates and all. Mustn't make excuses. Was suffering from extremely mild case of writer's block (_how on earth was Katie going to react?!_) and extremely severe case of lack of time. But please don't let this stop you from reviewing this chapter! I promise I'll be good next time! =)

Chapter Six : Sleeping Beauty

I walked up the steps leading to my dormitory frowning over what Oliver had just said to me.

Alright.

I'll admit it.

I had absolutely _no fricking clue _what the heck Oliver had meant by that whole gay comment.

I mean, seriously. What was it? Me being gay and him not liking gays that were liked by me because he was gay and he did not like me being gay because I did not like gays unlike him and like me?

_Huh?_

My head was beginning to hurt from all the thinking I was doing - which really was rather odd, me being the smartest girl in my year and everything (only in the most modest of ways, of course). And I was pretty certain that whatever the heck it was he had just said could not be that complex as it was, after all, _Oliver who had said it._

Let's dwell upon that sentence for a second or so : Oliver Fransisco Wood, Esquire outsmarting me, Katie Leigh Bell.

Stranger things have happened, though, I have to admit. Like Oliver confessing that he's had enough of Quidditch for a day. Do you know what I reckon? _He's hitting puberty._

That has to be it, because there's no other explanation; right?

Hmmm.

It's about time, seeing that he's seventeen and all.

Oliver is what my mom would call a late bloomer. Of course, my mom also calls him 'a darn fine piece of manhood, Katie, dear, so make a move on him before anyone else gets their filthy little hands on him!' so I probably shouldn't take her judgement very seriously.

I pushed the dormitory door open slightly, trying not to make any noise and succeeded admirably in failing miserably.

"_You!_" Angelina shrieked, and pounced on me immediately upon my entering the room.

The word 'ow' pretty much sums up everything I was feeling at that moment.

"Yes, me..." I grumbled, pushing Angelina off of me and retrieving my textbooks that had fallen down next to me on the thick, red carpet.

She rolled over, apparently unfazed, and went, "Tell me what happened, you wicked, wicked girl!" I gave her a very strange look – you couldn't blame me, either – and proceeded to get up from the floor, dumping my books on my bedside table with an exhausted sigh.

"Hey! Are you listening to me, Katesies?" Angelina said very loudly and indignantly.

Alicia, who was sitting cross-legged on her bed and staring at the both of us, gave me a sorry-can't-help-you-Johnson's-gone-bonkers-again look, which I responded to with a don't-worry-I'll-leave-you-something-nice-in-my-will look. Looks make the world go round!

"Don't call me Katesies, Angie, you know I hate it," I said to Angelina. I sat down on my bed and looked around the room for a second.

"Where's Adelene?"

"Oh, stuff her, she's in the bathroom," Angelina said impatiently, waving my question aside. "Now tell me what happened between you and Oliver!"

I turned to give Alicia a she's-delusional-_again_ look, but to my surprise and utter consternation, found Alicia looking at me expectantly as well.

I frowned. "What in the name of Merlin are you looking at? Am I breaking out into hives or something?" I looked down at my arms to check, just in case. Nope. No hives.

"Oh, don't play dumb, Katesies...it was so _obvious _today at practice that there is something going on between the two of you. And did you know that three quarters of today's teenagers all met their significant others in tutoring sessions?"

"They did _not_."

"Well, no, but they should."

"You're a big fat liar."

"Ah, but you're the one with the name 'Katesies'."

I narrowed my eyes at Angie. "Katesies is _not _my name! I hate that name, stop it..."

"You don't seem to mind when Fred and George call you Katesies," Alicia interjected with an innocent smile on her face.

Angelina yelled, "AHA!" as I stuck my tongue out at Alicia.

"Well, when they say it, it sounds cute. When _she_ says it, it sounds –"

"Evil?"

"No, it –"

"Kinky?"

"NO, for heaven's sakes, but you're pretty darn close!" I exclaimed.

Merlin, Angelina is going to be the death of me.

"Sadistic?" Alicia ventured, to which I replied with a tired nod.

"Wahey, cha ching, cha ching!" Angelina crowed and began doing a one-person conga all around the room.

I glared accusingly at Alicia. "You let her get near the sugar again, didn't you?"

Alicia gave me an innocent look, placed her hand on her heart and smiled her Miss Universe smile, "I only do the best I can," looking at me with these wide, soulful eyes.

Angelina finally collapsed on my bed next to me when she'd had enough of conga-ing and continued, "So, come on, Katie. I'm absolutely serious. Both of you looked adorable at practice today. Don't think we didn't notice, because we noticed, alright. In a very noticing way." I shot her a look, but she just widened her eyes with this whole 'Who me?' expression on her face.

I swear, that witch is the devil in disguise.

"I hate to point out the obvious, Katie," Alicia chimed in with a look that said she _loved_ pointing out the obvious, "but Orli wasn't even practicing with us today. Angie and I were left shooting the Quaffle into an empty hoop, which happens to be excruciatingly boring, by the way. Orli hasn't missed a single Quidditch practice since – well, since second year, when we joined the team. Don't you remember how he refused to sit out practice even when his wrist was broken? And how much he sulked when Pomfrey wouldn't let him fly?"

My mind immediately flashed back to a time about five years earlier, a young Oliver Wood sitting in the hospital wing, his face screwed up in pain. In fact, I had first spoken to him then – of course, I wasn't wishing him well or anything of that sort. His head just happened to be blocking my view of the pretty little flitterby on the wall behind him.

"Hello? Saturn to Katesies, Saturn calling Katesies, do you read me, Katesies?" Angelina seemed to be saying into my ear, waving her hand in front of my face to get my attention.

"Isn't it supposed to be Earth to Katesi -  Katie?" I asked her, blushing slightly as I realized I had spaced out on them.

"Wherever you were, it was _way _past the point where you could have received a signal from Earth," Angie scoffed.

"What's the matter, Katie? Thinking of Orli dearest?" Alicia teased.

I turned to stare at her in shock.

Where was the quiet, sensible, reserved Alicia Spinnet I used to know?

ANGELINA HAD CREATED A MONSTER!

The door leading to the bathroom opened and Lene walked out, her eyes rimmed with red and her forehead damp with sweat. She looked slightly startled to see us there, but quickly recovered enough to ask, "Hey, what's up?"

"Lene? Are you okay?" I asked her, frowning to see her in this state.

Angelina appeared to not have noticed anything different, though, because she just squealed, "Katie's having a love affair with Oliver Wood!"

Lene's lips immediately broke into a grin, and I noticed she had completely ignored my question.

"Brilliant, Katie. Why didn't you tell us earlier? Afraid we'd tell on you to Sweetheart Snape?" Lene laughed, and proceeded to flop down onto her own bed, which was next to mine.

_Ugh._

They constantly insisted that Snape had a crush on me, which explains the name they had, shall we say, 'fondly' given him – Sweetheart Snape.

Gag me.

Please.

As they all began to shriek in laughter, I said loudly, "Look, I like Oliver as much as I like –"

"Sweetheart Snape?" Alicia coughed, which instantly started them all off laughing again.

It's a madhouse, I tell you, a madhouse!

I shook my head vigorously, sending my hair flying everywhere. "I don't have any other feelings for Oliver besides platonic ones. Come on, you guys, I'm not ready for this shit yet."

Alicia and Angelina (Lene was still laughing) gave me two very superior looks, as if they knew something that I didn't. "Well, even if you really _don't feel anything for Oliver, he certainly feels something for you," Alicia shrugged._

Her saying this brought back the incident of that night's tutoring back into my mind with a sudden flash.

_Katie, are you a guy? Then I'm not gay..._

And then it finally hit me to what he had meant.

Could it be? Did he really...?

I needed to sleep on this.

Preferably for a thousand years, but I would take what I could get.

That night, I dreamt of rabid pink polka-dotted bunny rabbits – all gay – flying about in outer space singing the Irish national anthem. And then the conductor of the rabbit orchestra, who happened to go by the exclusive name of Cottonskovitski, mutated into Oliver Wood, who began singing Macho Man by the Village People, this scary Muggle singing group that my maternal grandmother used to make me listen to.

Don't get me wrong, my grandmother didn't like the Village People (thank Merlin for small favours) – she just wanted me to promise her never to end up like on of them.

Oliver was halfway through the second chorus of the song when I was awoken by a pair of hands shaking me very roughly.

"What the hell..." I groaned, and rubbed my eyes, waiting for my vision to clear up so I could see who it was that I would have to strangle.

A cold hand immediately clamped my mouth shut, and I could hear two very familiar voices say, "Shhh..."

Alicia and Angelina were standing over me, both of them still clad in their nightgowns and looking very worried about something. I could see that it was still dark outside, which meant that both of them would not only be strangled, but be made to suffer under various methods of medieval torture (which I happen to know a lot about, being the top student in History of Magic, and all).

Then I realized that Angelina was wide awake at what was presumably about five in the morning.

This realization was far more effective than any caffeine known to mankind, and in a split second I was out of bed.

"Katie, we think something's wrong with Lene," Angelina began in a hushed sort of voice. "Yeah. She woke me up about half an hour ago when she went into the bathroom, and she hasn't come out since," Alicia said softly.

They both looked at me with worry etched all over their faces, and I was pretty sure mine wasn't looking particularly dandy either.

"So...should we go in there and get her?" I finally ventured, breaking the silence. "I mean, worst case scenario is that she's probably just passed out or something. Best case scenario...she's learning a jig?"

"Exactly!" Angelina agreed a little too quickly.

"And she doesn't want to mindlessly caper around the dormitory because...she doesn't want us to laugh at her!" Alicia said brightly.

"Which is what we would do!" Angelina.

"Which is why this bunch of crap makes perfect sense!" Me.

We all exchanged glances, and had a moment of silence to reflect on how magnificently stupid we all were.

"That's it," Angelina suddenly decided. "I'm going in."

"Wait!" Alicia called, ignoring our unspoken rule of keeping silent as Angelina marched to the bathroom door. I didn't know what to do; to stand still, to go back to bed, to stop Angelina, or to walk into the bathroom and confront whatever lay there.

It was too late.

Angelina opened the door, and I heard Alicia and Angelina gasp loudly as one.

With excruciating slowness, I looked into the bathroom.

All of a sudden, my said worst case scenario looked a whole lot better.

A/N : Oooooh. Is this a cliff-hanger? If it is, I wasn't really intending it to be one; but as I only have five more minutes online, I figured this was a pretty good place to stop. Suspense! Now if you want to know what's screwing up Lene, review! The more reviews I get the faster I'll write! Hehe. I'm evil. Oh, and thanks to the book Wizard's Brew for Cottonskovitski the rabbit. It's very cute, these three bunnies called Flopkin, Mopkin and Cottonseed decide to become Freedom Fighters and change their names to Comrade Flopnik, Comrade Mopnik and Comrade Cottonskovitski. Go bunnies! And thank you to Gorgeous, because your satanic exercise of calling me kinky has turned into a blessing. Night, all!


	7. Our Protector

A/N : Thank you so much for the reviews! I always have to thank you guys first and foremost because it means so much to me. =) And yes, I feel so bad about taking so long for the previous chapter that I'm starting on this one as fast as possible. It's great to hear how much you all care about Lene, so I'll just start the chapter so you don't kill me for ranting too much. Enjoy!

Chapter Seven : Our Protector

The first thing I saw was a bloodstained knife.

I know what you're thinking.

I should have turned away after that...but I kept on looking. Thank the heavens I was with Alicia and Angelina, who were much more capable of taking care of these sort of situations than I was.

Lene was sprawled out on the bathroom floor – I could see that she was at least semi-conscious, but she didn't seem to have noticed our sudden intrusion. In fact, she didn't seem to notice much at all.

Within seconds, Angelina had sprung forward to Lene's side to check her vitals. "She's breathing, but her pulse is weak. Very, very weak," Angelina reported to us. I noticed how she averted her eyes from the knife lying in Lene's outstretched hand.

Alicia let out a soft moan and slowly slid to the floor at the nauseous sight that greeted us. I wasn't feeling too good, either. There was recently thrown up food covering most of the marble floor, and there were signs of half-digested food and blood on the toilet bowl as well. Lene was as pale as death, and had deep cuts all over her arms. Spatters of blood decorated the bathroom mirror in an arcane pattern.

You didn't need to be a genius to figure out what she had been doing.

"Hey, Katie," Angelina whispered. I looked up to see her holding a bunch of Lene's beautiful hair in her fist. "Isn't hair loss a symptom of an eating disorder?"

I closed my eyes, suddenly feeling very dizzy. This was too much to deal with.

"Lene wouldn't - she couldn't...she _can't_ have...she just _can't _have! She's fine, she's bleeding because she just – she just fell down, that's all," I managed to say through all the shock.

Alicia managed to pull herself up – she never had liked blood – and walked over to me as Angelina continued to cradle Adelene.

"We've all seen how thin she's been getting, Katie," she said softly, putting her hand on my shoulder.

I took a step back from her and pushed her hand off me.  "What are you talking about?" I cried. "You don't know what you're saying! She's my best friend!  I would have known! If there was anything wrong she would have come to me, because – because that's what best friends are for! _I would have known!_"

"Then I don't think we've been very good friends to her, Katie," Angelina said calmly, in a voice devoid of expression.

I turned to look at Angelina, on the verge of bursting into tears.

"Denying things won't help Lene. Apparently, we haven't been there for her – and that's something we're going to have to fix when Lene gets better."

Angelina was right. I knew she was.

Angie, Lene and I had attended a seminar about eating disorders during the summer holidays, and I could still remember the signs of an eating disorder : Severe restriction of food intake, weight loss to an unhealthy level, an intense fear of getting fat or losing control of eating, a distorted body image, self-induced vomiting, periods of strict dieting, hair loss and loss of periods.

Lene hadn't been getting her period since we started school – both of us had joked that she was pregnant.

I realized how stupid I was.

I would have started sobbing right then and there, but two thoughts let me hold on to my sanity : the first that I hadn't  been a good friend. All my life, I had prided myself on being a faithful friend to Lene, and now I knew that I had been completely disillusioning myself, and everyone around me. And I wanted to make it up to her. Angelina was being the brilliant friend that she was – right then, she was checking on Lene's body and her vital statistics to determine her condition.

And what was I doing?

Approximately nothing.

The second thought that kept revolving round and round in my head – that Angelina had said that Lene would get better. That she would be okay. That we would all be able to hear her laugh like a crazed maniac again.

That was _it_.

"Angie, how is she?" I asked crisply, marching up to her.

Angelina gave me an appraising look before replying, "Her pulse is getting weaker. We have to take her to the hospital wing. She's lost too much blood, and if you haven't noticed, she hasn't even acknowledged the fact that we're here – even though her eyes are wide open. This is out of our league, Katie. We have to go, _now_."

"Then we'll go," I replied. "You can carry her there. I'll go on to the hospital wing to tell Madam Pomfrey you two are coming. Lish, I suggest you clean up the bathroom before there's an international incident."

For a second or two, I allowed myself to wonder how come Angelina didn't seem upset at all. But then I saw the determination in her eyes and I knew the answer. Angie was our protector : she would be damned if anything ever happened to one of her best friends. The tears would come later.

As for now, Adelene was the most important thing in our lives.

McGonagall excused me from all of my classes the next day so I could watch over Lene. Angelina tried to get permission to be excused, too, but her request was denied. I don't blame McGonagall for not letting her skip because Angie's work has not been going very well this term; but you should have seen the look on Angie's face.

I sat there next to Lene's bed all morning and she didn't stir. The freaky thing was that her eyes were wide open – it's like one of those Muggle horror movies you watch where giant snake thingies go around the school petrifying people.

Cheap special effects much?

Madam Pomfrey (whose skin still looks AMAZING) gave me some _seriously medical explanation about Lene's condition, but I got the drift : she would be okay._

She would need some psychological help as well, but she would be okay all the same.

You have no idea how much of a relief it was for me that she would be alright – I had hardly slept the night before, the guilt bearing in on me from all sides.

It was the period before lunch when she finally spoke. All of a sudden, she just blinked as if she was coming out of some sort of trance, and looked at me with a strange glint in her eye.

"I've been found out, haven't I?" she asked, in a voice that was hardly her own.

I wasn't really sure what to say, because the emotions in me were doing a sort of jig at the moment on seeing her talking again. Somehow, I managed to nod in reply.

"Oh," she simply said.

She turned to face the wall on her other side.

"Damn."

Her shoulders began to shake, and at first I thought she was convulsing with laughter like she always did - but when I started hearing strange noises emanating from her, I realized she was crying.

"Oh, Lenie," I said soothingly, and got up to put my arms around her. I sat myself down on her bed, and she turned around to put her head in my lap; just like the countless other times we had done the same thing when we were eight. She continued to sob softly in my lap as I stroked her now thin hair.

"What have I done, Katie...What have I done?" she kept repeating in between sobs, clutching on to my school robes as if they were a lifeline.

I felt completely helpless; I didn't know what to say and I didn't want to feel that way. What if I said the wrong thing and made everything worse? What if I hurt her feelings? What if I had judged the entire situation wrongly? What if...?

Madam Pomfrey actually came in for a second, but saw the two of us and immediately turned around and left again.

Nice witch, she is.

Lene had all these horrible scabs all over her arms, and you could see some caked blood in her hair as well. Every time she caught sight of her bruises, she'd just burst into tears again. Finally, she managed to pull herself together. She managed to sit up with some difficulty, ignoring my offers to help her. She looked me straight in the eye and asked me the same question she had been repeating endlessly for the past half an hour, except with more conviction, "What have I done?"

What was I supposed to say?

"Adelene, I'm not going to pretend that you haven't done anything wrong; because you have. I'm not trying to shove this in your face or anything, but I do want you to realize that what you were doing to yourself could have killed you. It not only would have hurt you, but it would have hurt everyone around you, as well; and I know you're not the type of witch who would want that to happen. Being thin isn't the secret to life – it's not going to change your life for the better or for the worse. Do you want to live the rest of your life in a hospital, with a fear of food and always worrying about what people think about you? Or do you want to live in a world that's full of magic, and experience what all your friends will experience together? Nobody but you can decide how you want to live your life, Adelene, and I know you'll make the right choice. I believe in you."

I would have paid a million Galleons to have said something as cool as that, but unfortunately, God was against me once again.

I stood and turned around, already knowing who I would see standing behind me, and indeed saw I had been correct.

"You don't have a reason to believe in me. You hardly know me. Why would you say something like that?" Lene asked him curiously; indeed she was looking more curious than upset now.

Oliver took a few casual steps closer to Lene and I, smiling. "You're right, Adelene. I hardly know you – and you want to know why I believe in you? Well, if you really must know, it's because you're one of Katie's best friends. I trust her taste in friends; I know she's a good judge of character. I believe in her, too...so I suppose I believe in you."

My eyes widened slightly.

Why on earth does he believe in me?

Is the guy _mad_, for heaven's sakes?

"Orli, if you believe in me, I'm afraid you're going to end up dying a tragic, untimely death that involves homosexual bunny rabbits," I interrupted.

He and Lene both gave me very quizzical looks.

"Homosexual bunny rabbits?" Oliver repeated blankly.

A few tense moments passed by, as Oliver and Lene continued to stare at me.

And then I heard it.

The most beautiful sound I had ever heard in my life.

"Oh, bless the wizards above, she's laughing!" George cried at that moment, running into the hospital wing and up to Lene's bed; screeching to a halt.

For Lene was indeed laughing, and watching her I felt my heart swell up like a great big balloon, because I knew Angelina had been right. Lene _was going to be okay._

At that second, Miss Protector herself, Fred, Alicia, Cedric and Colin walked into the wing, all of them with huge grins on their faces. Obviously, they had already heard or seen Lene laughing (to be honest it was hard to miss her) since no one seemed to be committing any form of grievous bodily harm to the others.

"Oh, Merlin," Lene wheezed, clutching at her ribs, trying to stop laughing. "Ow, ow, ow, shut up, Katie, you're making it worse with all your homosexual bunny –" She started laughing again; her laughter immediately followed by several audible yelps of pain.

Colin, who was this puny little second-year boy, marched up to me with his camera and said politely, "Excuse me, ma'am, but can I take a few pictures of all of you?"

I could hardly hear the end of his sentence because Lene had started all over again on hearing the word "ma'am", so I had to raise my voice slightly to make my voice heard.

I agreed.

Colin immediately began taking shots of all of us, as Cedric began talking to Lene with a slightly alarmed look on his handsome face – obviously, he had never witnessed one of her eruptions before.

I was about to tap George on the shoulder to talk to him, but someone tugged on a lock of my hair first.

"Your hair's let down," Oliver said to me with a smile when I turned around.

Something about that smile made my stomach do a sort of dance, and I quickly responded, "Yeah. What's it to ya?" I hoped he hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary about my response.

Oliver shrugged and gave me this look that made me feel all warm inside.

"I like you with your hair let down. You should keep it that way."

Something inside of me felt like screaming, _Yes, Oliver, anything you say! I worship you in my Katie way!_

Oh, no.

I was rhyming.

How utterly..._tacky_.

"I'll remember that," I said, gracing him with a little smile.

I suddenly remembered what he had said to me during our last tutoring session together. Had he meant what he said? Did he really...well, did he really..._like me? The possibility seemed too darned wacky to be true, but right at that moment, anything seemed possible._

So if he DID like me, then how did I feel about it?

Hey, I was a genius, remember?

Just let me take a few seconds to think and...

Hmmm.

Tick.

Tock.

"Katie? Is anyone in there?" Oliver broke into my consciousness, looking into my grey eyes with his hazel-brown ones.

"Uh..." I sputtered.

Damn. I need more time!

This should not be this hard! I should know this – after all, we are talking about _me here._

Just a few more seconds to think, dammit...

"Katie?"

Stop _looking _at me...

"I beg your pardon, sir, ma'am –" I could hear Colin's voice suddenly saying – Lene started laughing again and Alicia quickly dragged Cedric out of her way, "- do you think I could get a picture of the two of you?"

Oliver looked at me for confirmation, and I nodded. I mean, what harm could it do?

I just hoped Colin wouldn't drop dead the second the photograph came out, because I am far from photogenic.

"Alright, one, two..." Colin counted down, pointing his camera at the two of us.

To my surprise, Oliver took a step closer to me and put his arm around my shoulders. He was so close that I could smell his aftershave, a very clean, fresh scent...

"...three!"

After Colin had walked away, I noticed Oliver let his arm linger around my shoulders for slightly longer than necessary before finally stepping away.

There I was, in the hospital wing of all places, with Oliver Wood, surrounded by all my friends, having been excused from classes the entire day, and knowing for sure that my best friend would not die today – and it was all very, very good.

A/N : Ta-dah! Happy ending! Yay! Please review and tell me what you thought - if this chapter seemed a bit rushed, sorry, but if I don't get offline right this second I am 110% SCREWED! Lol, hasta!


	8. My Last Meal

A/N : Well hello again...it seems I am currently running dry when it comes to reviews, so please recommend my story to your friends if you like it! This is only the second fic I'm posting up on ff.net so I'm aiming for at least a hundred reviews – maybe not a big thing to you experienced writers, but it's huge for me! And you guys are the only ones who can help make that happen, so pwetty pwease??? To pokElilpupE (one of my most faithful reviewers, yay you!) : I'm sorry if Orli reminds you of, er, snorkels. Is that a bad thing? I call him that because it gets tiring typing Oliver over and over again. We all need some variety in our life. And I think Orlando Bloom is called Orli by his friends, so maybe that's where I got the idea?? _Thank you for reviewing!_

Chapter Eight : My Last Meal

Angelina and I were walking back to the changing rooms after another gruelling Quidditch practice when she finally asked me The Question : "So, what's going on with you and Oliver?"

I raised my eyebrows at her. "You're slacking, Angie. I was expecting that question from as early as four days ago."

"Shut up."

"Gladly."

Angelina paused for a second as her mind tried to process what was going on.  "Oh, wait –"

"You asked me to shut up, so I am."

 "But Oliver –"

"I'm sorry, I don't speak English," I said in perfect English.

I rock.

Angelina muttered something inaudible as we pushed through the changing room doors and laid our broomsticks on the bench. Fred heard her, though, and chided, "Oooohhhh...potty mouth."

Oh, yes, I do.

"Look who's talking," Alicia quipped, emerging from one of the shower stalls with a towel wrapped around her head.

George jogged into the changing room, laying his broomstick down next to mine. "Hey, Katesies, isn't Lene getting out of the hospital wing today?" he asked, turning to me and wiping a trickle of sweat away from his flushed forehead.

I ignored Fred and Angelina who immediately began humming a wedding march and responded, "Nope, she's getting out tomorrow – at least I think she is. I'm going to go get her at lunch tomorrow, why don't you come with me?"

"Oooooohhhhhhh...aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh..." Fred and Angelina chorused.

"I'm pretty sure she'd be glad to see you," I offered. George took the time to glare at his antagonizers for a second before accepting my offer.

Just at that second, I saw Oliver entering the changing room out of the corner of my eye and felt the insides of my stomach jump slightly. He seemed to be very preoccupied with something; in fact I was pretty sure he was, because he walked straight into poor Harry with a thud.

Ohmigod the poor boy will never walk again.

"Oh Merlin, my _buttocks_," Harry groaned, rolling all over the stone floor and rubbing said part of his body.

George made a gagging sound and Fred grinned, "Too much information. Need to refresh. Come with me, Angie?"

We all watched with growing curiosity as the two made their way out of the changing room and back to the school.

"You know, I think something's going on with those two," Oliver commented, getting up from the floor and stepping on Harry's stomach in the process.

I felt deeply sorry for both of them : Harry because Oliver was a fat oaf and Oliver because he was born without a cerebral cortex.

I mean, how could he not have noticed the chemistry between Angelina and Fred before now? Too much Quidditch. That must be it. All that bloody Quidditch flowing out of his ears...but Quidditch's not all that bad. It's good for his ass. Because that boy has a _fine _ass.

Yummy.

"No duh," Alicia retorted, gathering up her things from her locker. "Fred has liked Angie only for, like, _forever_."

She gave me an Oliver-is-hopeless look and waved to us, leaving the room.

"Oh, wait," Oliver suddenly said, smacking his forehead, "Damn. I was going to tell Alicia about our next match against Hufflepuff."

I have a theory that Oliver was born without a medulla oblongata either.

I don't understand it – how can he be so thick one second, and then so smartass-y the next? That whole gay comment thing was pretty smart, and sort of logical, I have to admit; but now he's being stupid all over again. _Ugh_.

"_What next match against Hufflepuff?" George asked sharply._

Go George!

"The one that's a day before Christmas; which, by the way, is coming pretty soon if you haven't noticed. I've just found out, as well - I've just been to see Professor McGonagall and she told me. By the way, Katie, she told me to ask you to meet her in her office after dinner tonight. Looks like somebody's in trouble..." Oliver wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at me.

Bleeding son of a witch.

What the heck have I done now?! Usually, I really _have done something whenever McGonagall calls me to her office, but I SWEAR I haven't done anything this time. _Honestly.__

"I'll never play Quidditch again," Harry was now moaning, clutching at his ribs and kicking out wildly into the air. I suspected he was aiming for Oliver.

Oliver must have shared this thought, because he immediately took a few steps away from Harry, and ended up right next to me instead.

"You _will_ play Quidditch in our next match, Potter – at least if I can help it," Oliver winked.

Harry, realizing that his charade would not work any more, immediately jumped up and grabbed his Firebolt along with him, yelling, "Bye," as he left.

Following Harry's cue, George bent down to retrieve his broomstick as well. "I'll see the both of you later, I'm going to visit Lene and bring her a funeral wreath."

I whacked him on the head with the towel I had just retrieved from my locker. "_George!"_

"Only joking, only joking..."

George's voice trailed off as he walked out as well.

In that second, I had a few revelations.

One : that Oliver and I were now alone in the changing room.

Two : that we were standing very close to each other.

Three : that I hadn't taken a shower and must have completely stank.

I hurriedly hung the towel around my neck and took a step towards the shower stalls when Oliver grabbed hold of my wrist and spun me around to face him.

"Katie..." he began, tightening his hold on my wrist slightly.

In fact, my wrist was beginning to hurt. I tried to remember whether 'Wrist being broken by insane Quidditch captain' was covered by my insurance company.

"Um, yeah?" I replied, trying to look calm. And serene. And peaceful. And yet concerned, and slightly mischievous at the same time. And possibly some lasciviousness in there. But that could be too straightforward, so how about some innocence for good measure?

"I – I said...I told you – that I...er..."

Oliver didn't appear to be able to go on any further, and I was increasingly aware of how much I was beginning to smell like Hippogriff droppings; so I decided to hurry him up.

"Something about being gay and me being a guy, or – not being a guy, or whatever..." I hinted.

His grip on my wrist tightened even further and I winced inwardly.

"Yes, well, about that – I mean, you did understand what I said, didn't you? I mean, you don't think I'm gay any more? Because I'm not. I'm really not. And I wasn't saying you were a – a tomboy or anything, because you're not – well, you can be _sometimes_, but that's completely beside the point –"

"Yes, Orli," I said gently. Might as well not make him too nervous about this. I am so kind I _amaze_ myself.  "I understood what you said."

Oliver now had a slightly confused look on his face, and didn't seem to realize that he was still maintaining a death grip on my right wrist. Hopefully, my professors would allow me to skip writing anything for the next few days. "But if you understood me, then – why aren't you..."

"Why aren't I what?" I asked, genuinely confused.

Okay.

So he liked me.

So what?

It didn't actually mean that I had to do something about it, did it?

Alright. I have a secret that I generally don't tell anyone other than my closest friends; but you get to hear it. Because I've never had a boyfriend. Never. In all my seventeen years, I have never experienced anything in a romantic sense. Maybe my hormones are slowpokes, I don't know, but all I know is that I've never had a crush on anyone or vice versa. So I really have absolutely no idea what to do when it comes to situations like this one with Oliver – not that I _have experienced any situation like this one with Oliver. Sure, there is this sort of stuff in all my romance novels (you know the ones, the ones Angelina calls 'trashy'?) but, I mean, hello? No lifeguard is going to rescue me from a Great White Shark, give me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and immediately fall head over heels in love with me in real life. For one thing, there are no Great White Sharks in Ireland._

What I am trying to say is, I may be a genius when it comes to about everything else, but when it comes to lovey dovey romance, all I can say is this : I'm clueless.

"You don't – you don't care?" Oliver blurted out, his eyes widening slightly. "I mean, most girls either giggle madly or blush or kick me in the groin, but you – you're really not going to do anything?"

Oh, shoot.

I think I've done something wrong.

"Is that what – is that what Cordelia used to do to you? Giggle madly, blush and then kick you in the groin?" I stammered, trying to buy time by referring to his ex-girlfriend and Lene's arch enemy.

Oliver shrugged, finally letting go of my wrist; but I noticed his expression darkening slightly. I suddenly remembered Lene telling me the year before about how Oliver and Cordy's break up had been a huge, painful one. Whoops.

This was then followed by an awkward silence to end all awkward silences.

Just as I had made up my mind to continue what I had been trying to do earlier, as in taking a shower, Oliver spoke again.

"Katie...do you have any feelings for me?" he asked quietly. His eyes were looking everywhere except at me.

Ah, nuts.

How could I say what I wanted to say?

No, I didn't.

Or at least I didn't think so, anyway.

Oliver was nice and all, and I did think he was good-looking, but for some reason I just couldn't imagine me ever having any of those sort of feelings towards him. Maybe I had just known him for too long to ever think of him as 'outrageously sexy' or whatnot.

But I would feel kind of bad just telling him outright about my not liking him and all that. Maybe I just don't have enough practice with this whole dumping thing.

Of course, Oliver's always been really nice to me; so maybe I should just tell him yes, grit my teeth and get along with it. No – call me selfish, but I don't intend to suffer through the last year of my schooling life. Lene would totally kill me if she were here with me right now.

_ARGH _– I'm beginning to sound like Dr. Jekyll and Mr Hyde.

Then I remembered : didn't the heroine in my latest romance novel suffer through a crisis like this? Oh, right, she did; that Countess Elephanté Von Something-or-other from The Land Of Milk And Honey (yes, her name really was Something-or-other). There was some sort of international incident when a Viscount from The Kingdom Of Low Fat Milk And Newly Improved Honey proclaimed his love for her, which ended in a very ugly Battle of the Calories.

I suspected that the author of that particular novel was a sad, sad man.

Now what was it that she had told him?

"I'm sorry, young sir, but I cannot accept your lactose, for you are low fat and newly improved, whereas I am pure milk and honey; and therefore we cannot undertake in any relationship ending in holy milkimony."

Oh, dear, that didn't come out right.

"Excuse me?" Oliver said, dumbfounded.

"No, wait, what I meant was –"

"No, Katie. Hold on," Oliver interrupted me. "I think I get the message. I'm not as stupid as you think I am, you know. I can read between the milk - I mean – you know what I mean."

Oliver took a deep breath, and then continued.

"I get it, okay? You don't like me. It's not exactly great; but I can't force you to feel something for me. I – I wouldn't do that to you. Anyway, I couldn't even if I tried, knowing you," Oliver grinned slightly, but his smile vanished pretty darn quick. "I want us to remain friends, Katie – there's nobody else in the world like you. But always remember this – if you ever do have feelings for me...I'll be there. I'm not giving up on you, Katie."

He gave me a last wistful smile, then turned around to leave.

I stood there unmoving for a few minutes after he had left, with an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I should have been happy, right?

I mean, I had gotten what I wanted. We hadn't fought or anything. We could still be friends. And best of all, Oliver wasn't mad at me.

Then why did I feel so bad?

Why did I feel so...guilty?

I reached for another strawberry fruit tart.

"And Katie Leigh Bell prepares herself to consume yet another volume of the Last Meal saga."

I took a bite.

"She bites!" A gasp.

I chewed.

"She chews!"

I swallowed.

"Peristalsis, yet another amazing process of the human body, makes its presence known!"

I opened my mouth for another bite.

"She digests!"

I took my second bite.

"_Her last meal is reaching its end!"_

"Oh, SHUT UP," I finally said, turning to glare at Fred and George, who gave me these 'who me?' looks that I had seen one time too many.

I shook my head and proceeded to finish off the tart, accompanied by the lovely backing music of Fred and George continuously letting out exclamations and gasping.

"Oh, come on, you two, it's not her fault that Minervie wants to see her," Angelina finally cut in, barely managing to suppress her grin.

Ha. Laugh all you want, funny men.

I reached out for another fruit tart, this time a kiwi one, but was rewarded by a smack on the hand from George. "Last meals aren't supposed to last this long; you're supposed to be dead by now so don't prolong the pain in our hearts any longer. Hurry it up and go die already."

I glared at him and folded my arms indignantly.

"Well, that's nice, you –"

"I'm sure you have lots to say, dear, and I'd love to hear it all some other time, but really, you mustn't keep dear ol' McGonagall waiting now, must we?"

"All out of the goodness of our hearts," Fred chimed in.

My tormentors gave me dazzling smiles.

"Oh, alright, alright," I finally grumbled, getting up from the table.

There's no arguing with those two – unless you want to end up in Saint Mungo's.

And I'm sure it must be nice in the winter and all, but I don't think it'd do very much for me.

I walked all the way to McGonagall's office in silence, pondering over the surely gruesome fate that awaited me.

I finally reached the huge oak door and knocked on it three times.

"Come in," a voice I recognized as Professor McGonagall's immediately called.

I opened the door, half expecting her to be clad in a devil suit, but instead saw her dressed in her normal everyday black robes.

You know, if there's one witch on this planet who needs a makeover, it's her.

"Well, close the door, dear; you're letting a draft in," McGonagall chided.

I mumbled an incoherent apology and walked to her desk. I never have been very good at apologizing. "Sit down, Miss Bell," McGonagall commanded.

I sat immediately.

Hello? The lady can be scaaary.

At this point, McGonagall threw her head back and laughed.

I froze. This was sounding worse and worse by the second.

"Oh, don't look so stiff, Miss Bell! Don't worry, you're not in trouble," McGonagall laughed.

It was an _evil _laugh.

"I'm not?" I asked, relaxing slightly. _Slightly.___

"No, no, of course not. That is – unless you have something to be afraid of. You don't _have _something to be afraid of, do you?" McGonagall asked sharply, her eyes narrowing.

I shook my head vigorously.

McGonagall nodded to herself, seemingly satisfied. "I didn't think so. Why I actually called you here, Miss Bell, is to check on your progress with Mr Wood."

I immediately tensed up again. "What? How – how do you know about me and Oliver? We haven't done anything, professor, I swear!"

McGonagall gave me a strange look.

"I believe I am talking about the tutoring sessions, Miss Bell. I also believe you are talking about an entirely different subject."

I blushed scarlet red. "Oh, er – sorry about that, professor. Everything's going fine with Oliver...and the tutoring...and stuff. I mean – yes. Everything's fine. He's making very goo – well, maybe not very _good, but he's definitely making __some progress. He should be ready for the N.E.W.T.S. by the time I'm done with him."_

"That had better be the case, Miss Bell, because your trial N.E.W.T.S. examination will be in January, and the trial after that shall be held in April; if things go according to plan. Please don't get us wrong, we won't lock you up in a dungeon if Mr Wood doesn't do very well – but we all want to see him doing well, don't we?"

It depends on whether you believe in miracles, professor.

"Of course, professor," I said, smiling sweetly.

"And I felt, Miss Bell, that I should let you know about something the Headmaster has notified me about just this morning. If Mr Wood does not perform up to our expectations of all students who will be sitting for their N.E.W.T.S., we will have to stop him from playing Quidditch and withdraw him from the team. I'm sure you understand. He may be playing for my house, but I am very strict where academics are concerned."

No kidding! Oliver would be _crushed _if he were ever made to pull out of the team. I couldn't let that happen.

_Besides_, a nagging thought came to me, _if he weren't in the team, you wouldn't be able to spend half as much of time with him like you're doing now..._

"Oh, stuff your cake hole," I muttered.

"I beg your pardon?" McGonagall asked, eyebrows raised.

"Nothing," I quickly replied. I will be the death of me, if that even makes sense.

McGonagall gave me another strange look – she must think I'm a total nutcase by now – and finally said, "Alright, Miss Bell. That will be all for now."

I thanked her and stood up, very tempted to bow, and turned to walk out of her office.

"By the way, I will be checking in on you like this from time to time," McGonagall called to me as I closed the door behind me.

She might as well have added, "_BEWARE_," in an ominous, echo-y voice for all I cared.

Talk about a dramatic ending.

A/N : Yay! Another chapter up! By the way, does any one of you know how to speak Japanese? I'd really like to learn, and would appreciate if you could teach me a couple of handy phrases. If you don't mind, that is. =) I'm already picking up a couple of words here and there; so far of which the most handy has been "Harahetta!" That one is used at least ten times a day by yours truly, and I'm not even exaggerating. It means "I'm hungry". Heh. Alright, I'm done here. Please review and pray for a quick update! =)


	9. Do Doorknobs Even Have Teeth?

A/N : Hey, I'm baaaack! Haha, feels great to be writing again. First off, I'd like to thank you guys so much for the amazing reviews and condolences I received. You can imagine my surprise when I finally arrived back home and opened up my inbox to see all the wishes you sent me there. I think my mom was pretty touched by it as well, so once again, a big THANK YOU! I feel so loved! =) Alright, I am currently having a bit of trouble coming out with ideas for this story, so please do me a favour and tell me what you think/hope should happen to Katie and Oliver in your reviews. I'm just not very sure how Katie should react, because some people want their relationship to develop fast, and some slow...so review and majority wins! Also, another thing you might notice if you go back to previous chapters and read them again, is that in some chapters Katie seems to admit to herself that she actually likes him, and in some chapters she's in complete denial. This is because I wanted the story to be as real as possible (well, as real as flying broomsticks and talking portraits go anyway). I'm sure I'm not the only one here who experiences these sort of changing emotions when you begin to have feelings for someone you're pretty sure you shouldn't be having feelings for. On some days you may be all "I don't likehim, _please!_" and on other days you may be going, "He is sooooo cute...I wonder whether he has a girlfriend..." So this is what I'm trying to portray, I'm making this thing in Katie's current POV so things turn out that way. And if I've confused you even more, my deepest apologies.  Whoops, before I begin (yes yes yes I know this is a long one but please bear with me), I'd just like to thank for listing my story as one of the best Katie/Oliver fics on ff.net! Yay!

Chapter Nine : Do Doorknobs Even Have Teeth?

Professor Snape looked at the magical hourglass hanging from the stone wall of the potions dungeon and turned back to all of us with that ever-present scowl on his face.

"Time is up. You may go. Just leave your things here, you have another period later today."

"Geez, would it kill him to _smile _for a second?" Alicia muttered as we both got up to exit the room. George, who sat behind us during classes, paused to consider it and replied, "Probably."

I snickered silently and pushed my stool in, ready to leave. I was joined a few seconds later by Alicia and the both of us made our way out of the dungeon gratefully.

"Maybe you should talk to him about it – he'd probably listen to you, being your sweetheart and all..." Alicia began.

I stopped walking and glared at her, "Don't even start, Lish," before resuming my climb up the stairs again.

Alicia made some sort of exasperated sound and began to talk to Janie Kings, a Ravenclaw girl we had Potions with. Unlike the others, who were heading to the Great Hall for lunch, I was going to get Lene from the hospital wing with George – who was ever increasingly looking more cheerful as each second brought him closer to seeing Lene again. Sweet, really, this whole thing he had for Adelene. She is blissfully unaware of his feelings for her, though, which is rather a pity. The poor boy doesn't have a clue to what he should do – I know, because he told me once, after a few too many Butterbeers.

"I don't have a clue to what I should do," he had said.

I only speak the truth.

"Hurry up, Katie – Lene doesn't have all day to wait for us!" George whined, and grabbed my hand to drag me up the stairs.

"Not – so – _fast_," I wheezed, feeling my life flash before my very eyes.

Oh, dear. I need to get a life.

George sighed dramatically and finally let me go when we had gotten to the top of the winding stairway. "Fine then," he said, and took a step.

I looked at him quizzically.

_Now what?_

He looked at his wristwatch, seeming to count down to a certain time, and then took another step. I groaned. "Don't tell me..." I yelled to nobody in particular. Why did he torture me so?

George counted silently under his breath and took another single step. He smiled innocently at me. "Well, aren't you coming, Katie? Hurry, I wouldn't want you to be left behind!"

"Eff off!" I finally exclaimed, and tugged him along with me.

We continued bickering the whole way to the hospital wing, where at last we fell silent so as not to be accused of murdering some poor, sickly patient by Madam Pomfrey. I placed my hand on the doorknob, but jerked back in surprise when it bit my hand.

"Oi!" I yelled, forgetting about Madam Pomfrey for a second. "What's up your arse?!"

"Maybe I would know if I _had _one," the doorknob grumbled. "For your information, _mitthy, Profetthor McGonagall ith currently inthide the hothpital wing, discutthing thome VERY IMPORTANT matterth with a patient. Profetthor hath athked me to make thure that NOBODY dithturbth them."_

"Doorknobs lisp?" George whispered to me, to which I replied with a sharp poke in the ribs.  "Ow!"

"Well, did you have to bite me so hard?" I asked, rubbing my sore hand.

"Thorry, mitthy, but ith my job," the doorknob replied, and I could practically hear the shrug in its voice. "The profetthor will be done thoon, anyway, and then you can thee your friend. Ath for now, however, DO NOT COME WITHIN A THEVEN-MILE RADIUTH OF ME, YOU THUBBORN THUDENTS!"

"Thubborn thudents?" George sniggered.

"_Thut__ your hole, freckles!"_

"Hey!" George said indignantly and turned to me. "Did you hear that piece of –"

He was interrupted by the door suddenly opening and Professor McGonagall walking out.

"- fine furniture merely performing its job with full pride and dignity – ah! Professor McGonagall! What a surprise!"

She nodded in acknowledgement to George's greeting. "Good afternoon, you two," she said briefly and continued on her way.

George and I giggled nervously at her retreating back and entered the large room; George giving the doorknob the finger in the process.

I let the door close to the sound of, "_Thay_ that again, you thuffering thcoundrel! Why I oughta -"__

"Who was that?" Lene asked.

She was perched on the windowsill, looking much better than she had the last time we had come to visit her.

"Nobody worth mentioning," George grinned and made his way over to her. To our surprise, George planted a soft kiss on Lene's cheek before pulling back and saying softly, "You look great."

Well, it was true. That Pomfrey can certainly work miracles in here. All of Lene's bruises were almost entirely gone, and she wasn't looking like a stick insect any more.

Thank Pomfrey for small miracles! That will be my new saying!

Take _that_, God!

"You do, you know," I chimed in, walking up to Lene as well and giving her a hug as she slid off the windowsill. George currently had a permanent smile fixated on his face and somewhere inside of me, I knew it wasn't going to go away as long as Lene was in the immediate area.

So cute!

"Well, I still ache all over," Lene said ruefully. I noticed that she had the very faintest traces of a blush creeping over her cheeks.

The door opened and Angelina strode in, immediately pouncing on Lene to give her a tight hug. "It's so good to see you with us again!" she laughed.

"The feeling is mutual," Lene grinned, but her face darkened slightly when she saw a red mark on Angie's right hand. "Hey, what happened there?" she asked with a worried expression.

"Oh. Biting doorknob."

"Do doorknobs even have teeth?" George mused with a strange expression of wonder on his face.

"Well, it certainly had attitude," I shot back. "And a very bad lisp, come to think about it."

Poor Lene looked completely befuddled. "What on earth are you people blabbering on about?" she asked.

Angelina, George and I snorted in unison. "_Hah_. Don't bother," we muttered.

Lene shook her head, murmured something about 'insane little buggers' and then said out loud, "If you three will hang on for a second or two, I'll just pack up my things. I won't be long, I need to go to McGonagall's office anyway. She wants me to see her about some catching up I'll have to do."

Angelina opened her mouth to reply, but I had a sudden inspiration and whacked her in the stomach. _Hard.___

"Oof," she actually said, and clutched her stomach, giving me a look that plainly said, "_What the bleedin' heck was that for? Are you mentally disturbed?"_

"Actually," I quickly said to Lene, "Angie and I didn't have breakfast this morning and we're really, really hungry. I'm sure George would be more than happy to escort you back to the tower."

George's eyes widened slightly, but Lene merely shrugged and said, "Okay, then, you lot. I'll see you in the Great Hall in a few, where I shall EAT!"

After leaving the hospital wing (and putting up with another string of badly-pronounced abuse from the doorknob), Angelina asked me, "What were you going on about back there? You know very well that we had breakfast this morning – unless you've forgotten Fred making all of us rude signs on our plates with those blueberry muffins..."

"Oh, hush, Angie," I reprimanded her jokingly. "This time I actually know what I'm doing! Just call me Doctor Luuurve..."

"Oh, yeah, and that's why you broke Oliver's heart," Angelina retorted.

I knew she meant what she had said about Oliver lightly, but something about what she said struck a pang of hurt deep in my heart.

I ignored it, though, both for her good and mine.

"You'll see, non-believer...you'll see..."

When I walked out onto the Quidditch pitch later that evening, Lene was sitting in the stands watching us practice.

Hah.

In your face, Angie!

I mounted my broom and flew up to about fifty feet above ground level, relishing in the feel of the fresh air whipping my hair around my face. It was in a half-up pleat again, as usual during Quidditch practices – I told you my hair was boring. I could see Alicia practicing shooting the Quaffle past Oliver on the other end of the pitch and flew over to join the fun.

The second I got there, however, Alicia turned to me and said excitedly, "Did you hear? George asked Lenie to become his girlfriend – and she said yes! Look, she's over there watching him!"

My eyes widened. "Wow, really? No, I didn't hear at all! That's great!"

Oh, I heard.

I _heard_.

"They do make a cute pair," Oliver offered with the Quaffle tucked neatly under his arm. "I just hope she won't distract him from his flying."

"Oh, you would," I teased him before I could stop myself; then, feeling as if I might as well go for it, stuck my tongue out at him as well.

A slight look of surprise registered on Oliver's face, but he quickly recovered by tossing the Quaffle to me and ordering, "Less talk and more shooting, Katie Bell."

I flew away to put some distance between myself and the hoops, then easily shot the Quaffle past Oliver's outstretched arms.

I smiled artificially at him and said sweetly, "Just for you, Oliver."

He made a stabbing motion with his hand through his heart and rolled his eyes before zooming down to the ground to collect the Quaffle.

"Group up so we can begin, team!" I heard him yell.

Alicia and I flew down to join the others, who had just emerged from the changing rooms. Oliver gave his usual pre-practice speech to all of us and let us disperse to follow through with his orders.

I was about to kick off when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I squared my shoulders. Oliver wasn't going to catch me off my guard this time. I turned around.

It was George.

It certainly was George Weasley, with a bashful smile on his face. "Katesies, I – I'd like to thank you. If it hadn't been for you, I probably wouldn't have gotten the opportunity to – well, you know."

Exactly. You _ought _to thank me! I ought to get the Order of Merlin for this! If this had gone wrong, Lene would have had my head!

"Really, George! It was nothing! What are friends for?"

Borrowing stuff off.

"I just want to see Lene happy, and I think you can do that for her," I smiled, and this time I wasn't even lying.

George's grin became even larger – if that was even possible; his face looked like it was about to crack – and he tugged on my hair once before kicking off into the cool evening air.

"What was all that about?" a voice asked, and I spun around to see Oliver standing right behind me.

Shit.

He always catches me off my guard. And when I'm ready for him, it always turns out to be people like George Weasley.

"Er – nothing. Shouldn't we be practicing right about now, captain?" I managed to say quite convincingly.

Oliver shrugged.

"Spinnet and Johnson don't need me yet; they're working on their passing. What am I supposed to do, pretend to save imaginary Quaffles?"

"It works for some people," I replied in a sugary-sweet voice, with a smile to match.

Oliver looked like he was about to laugh, but then stopped himself and got a more serious look on his face. "You know, Katie – you have the most amazing smile."

Despite myself, I felt a warm blush creeping up my neck. Why was he doing this to me?

"Oliver, you – you know I don't have any feelings of that sort for you. You _know I don't."_

Oliver shrugged and said, "I'm not trying to seduce you or anything. I'm just saying what I think is true. You know, freedom of speech and all that. Because you really do have the most beautiful smile I have seen in my entire life. So far, anyway."

"Oliver, stop..." I mumbled, beginning to feel slightly embarrassed. I wasn't very used to people heaping compliments on a golden platter on me like this.

"What, are you afraid of the truth?" he teased, the edges of his lips tugging up slightly.

"Never," I challenged him, but with slightly less conviction than I should have said it with.

"Dirty truth..." he sang and wiggled his eyebrows at me.

I would have come up with some sort of cool comeback – _really ­– if Angelina hadn't yelled, "__OI! SOME PEOPLE UP HERE VERY MUCH NEED A KEEPER RIGHT AT THIS VERY MOMENT!" Then, for good measure, "_THIS MEANS YOU, OLIVER WOOD!" _And then a muffled, "Oi, not __you, Fred -  bleedin' heck, __give me that Quaffle!"_

Oliver blushed and quickly zoomed off to his spot in front of the three hoops.

I felt a strange sense of satisfaction that _I_, Katie Bell, had been able to distract Oliver Wood from Quidditch.

I am _evil_.

"I DEMANDsome entertainment!" I had told Oliver, to avoid being bored out of my mind during our tutoring session.

So he gave me his photograph album.

"I'm sorry, what?" I managed to choke out in between laughs at seeing him dressed in a kilt, Hawaiian shirt and leather jacket. AT THE SAME TIME.

"For the fourth time –"

But then whatever he said after that was lost on me as I chanced another look at the photograph again. "Katie!" he said sharply, and I could tell he was getting pissed. "Did you even hear what I said?"

Ah, feck.

"Of course - look it up in the textbook, Orli dear," I quickly replied, doing my very best to keep a straight face. Wow. I am beginning to totally rock at lying! No, seriously, that was good.

"I asked you what the time was, Katie _dear," Oliver glared at me._

Whoops.

Hey, even the Weird Sisters have their off days.

"Oops," I mumbled sheepishly, and looked at my watch. It currently displayed the words 'YOU ARE AN EMBARRASSMENT TO ME AND THE REST OF THE TIMEPIECES IN THE WORLD. PLEASE DO NOT WEAR ANY MORE WATCHES. YOURS FAITHFULLY, YOUR WATCH – SOB.'

The whole world is against me.

"Um, my watch is currently missing in action. Why don't you just continue reading your History so I can help you?"

"You mean, look at my photo album."

"Well, yes, now that you mention it. I am planning to look."

"And mock."

"And laugh."

Oliver gave me a withering look and said, "I thought so," before returning to his book. "Did it ever occur to you that if neither of us knows what time it is, we won't know when to stop?" he asked.

"Of course," I said loftily, wondering why the thought had never occurred to me. "We'll just stop in a few minutes, then. Just finish up that last sub-topic, I'll quiz you on it, and then we can go to bed."

"Well, I'm not that tired yet, I can go on -"

"But I _am_, Oliver. I want to go to sleep and dream about you being arrested for your fashion faux pas."

"I was young, innocent, naive, and didn't know better!" Oliver exclaimed, flinging his arms up in frustration. "What more do you want from me?"

"To lend me that shirt. It's so glaringly pink and excruciatingly turquoise that it just might get me sued – and trust me, I really need some excitement in my life."

Well, he _asked_.

"Right, right, right, I get the point," he sighed, and read the last sentence on the page he was on with a flourish. He slammed the book shut and grabbed the album from me, to a lot of protesting on my part.

"But –"

"You can do much more interesting things with your life, Katie."

"Yes, but –"

"Sorry, dear, but if that shirt is exposed to oxygen any longer it'll explode on us and that will be the end of the fashion world as we know it."

"Oliver..."

"Katie..."

"I just –"

"For Merlin's sake, girl, if you don't leave right now I'm going to turn you into a badger."

I wrinkled my nose. "Eeeew."

"My thoughts exactly," Oliver said calmly.

I sighed and decided there was no point in arguing about it, just in case the boy's brain – small as it was – exploded due to too much exertion or something. I picked up my textbooks and quill and proceeded to the stairwell leading to the dormitories just as I heard Fred and Angelina enter the common room, laughing about something or other.

LOVE EEZ EEN ZEE AIR, my watch flashed. "You have a horrible French accent," I told it grumpily.

When Angelina finally entered our dormitory about an hour later, I was on Lene's bed, helping her with some of her schoolwork; while Alicia was taking a shower.

"Okay, so the Enlightening Charm can be Negated...so can the Hovering, Summoning and Levitating Charms... Oh, for heaven's sake, I can't believe I missed so many classes in such a short time... How many do those make? One, two, three, four...ah damn...are you sure Professor Sinistra said we needed five examples?"

I nodded my head in reply and Lene groaned. The poor thing was told earlier today that she'd have to go for some counselling during the Christmas holidays, and this was making things a whole lot worse.

"You can Negate the Aniguration Charm, use that one," I suggested. "And I wouldn't really advise on Negating a Summoning Charm, that'd turn out rather messy – how about the Conjuring Charm?"

"Oh, yes, perfect," Lene declared and scribbled down a few notes on her piece of parchment. Angelina skipped up to us and plonked herself down next to me. "What are you two working on?" she asked, with a suspiciously huge grin on her face.

"Negating Theory," Lene sighed.

"Oh. Charms," Angelina said, wrinkling her nose.

I really don't understand why she doesn't enjoy Charms. It's the only class where you can conjure up your own personal Brad Pitt and get graded on the hotness factor of the outfit he's wearing. Oooh. Brad Pitt.

He NEEDS to call me.

"Does this mean I can't ask you about George tonight?" Angelina asked, a glimmer of hope still in her eyes. Lene gave here a look that would have sent the five little pigs running back home, but I could tell she was just DYING to tell us what had happened. We'll give her tonight to recuperate, I suppose...but tomorrow she'll wish she had never been born.

"Well, you work on your Negating, Lenie, because _I _–"

"Am a lazy pig?" Lene asked hopefully.

Angelina gave her a look and said loftily, "_No_, I have to talk to Katesies about our Quidditch boy."

Oh, no.

Not _again_.

"Give it up, Angie," I said, getting up from Lene's bed and walking over to my own dismissively. "I'm not talking about it. I'm going to bed."

"You're not even tired, you were helping Lene!" Angelina protested. "I may have been helping Lene, but before that I was heading for bed when she asked me a few questions. Being the GOOD FRIEND that I was, I decided to help her. So there," I declared triumphantly and proceeded to bury my face in my pillow.

Pillows are good, pillows are fun, pillows prevent my life from becoming hell.

The next thing I knew, Angie was sitting right next to me and tugging on my robe.

"Aren't you even going to take this off?"

"No, I'm a lazy pig. Now go away."

We then ensued in a silent battle of Angie trying to remove my robe and me refusing to move a muscle. I must say that Lene highly enjoyed this. Finally, panting and out of breath, Angelina gave up and said, "Well, you don't have to talk, because I am. Just –"

"I'm asleep. I can't hear you," I mumbled.

"You very well can," Angelina proclaimed, eyes flashing. "Stop being such a ponce and listen to me, you idiot!" In what I assumed was a last resort sort of thing, she reached out and grabbed my pillow in a swift movement.

"Hello, person-who-stole-my-pillow-for-a-very-good-reason!" I yelled and finally sat up.

"When we were four, you called pillows pew-pews," Lene volunteered oh-so-charitably and burst into laughter again, now and then yelping because her ribs were still slightly sore.

"Oh, take your pew-pew," Angelina said and threw it back to me. "But listen up, Katie. Fred and I were talking to Oliver down there, and I think you should give him a chance."

I sighed wearily and wondered how long she was going to take, because I needed my beauty sleep. "Really."

"Yes," Angelina responded, rolling her eyes. "The poor bloke may not seem like it, but he's absolutely devoted to you. It's so bleeding obvious that it's almost funny. And he's not that bad, he's a nice guy and all – so why don't you give it a shot?"

Give it a shot? Okay. M16, anybody?

"Because I don't _like_ him that way, Angie – I can't have feelings for someone just like that, you know."

"Oh, bollocks," Lene snorted from her bed across the room.

"I really don't!" I exclaimed, feeling absolutely bewildered.

What is the matter with them?

Do they not understand English?

Shall I speak in Azerbaijani? Lithuanian? YIDDISH?

Angelina turned to look at Lene and both of them shared a sort of look that I didn't like the looks of.

"What?" I asked suspiciously.

"You're blind, Katie," Lene said matter-of-factly. I looked at Angelina, to find her nodding solemnly at me.

"What the –"

"In time you will see the truth, young Padawan," Angelina said sombrely, before bursting into a fit of giggles.

"Oh, I knew I never should have let you watch that movie. Now _goodnight," I said irritably and lay down again with my beloved pe – pillow._

I shut my eyes and pretended to be asleep, and after a while I felt Angelina get off my bed and move over to join Lene. Alicia came out of the bathroom and I could hear the three of them busy whispering something – _plotting something. I heard mine and Oliver's names a few times, which was very, very bad. So they were plotting something that involved me and Oliver. Hmmm._

The question was..._what_?

A/N : Extra long chapter! Whoo-hoo! I hope you enjoyed it...please review! And now for the bad news. Gulp. Um...yikes. I'll just come right out and say it. Today is Tuesday. On Thursday night I will be leaving for Rome. Visiting various places in Italy, France and Switzerland for two weeks. I will come back just in time for my mid-year examinations in school, and as I haven't touched a single book, I will be in deep shit with the parental units if I don't study when I get back. And as the exams last for a week or so, it is possible you won't hear from me until, like, mid-June. *cowers from angry readers* So so so sorry! Anyway, I'm the one who's suffering here. I mean, I will have to study while I'm on holiday in Europe. _How sucky can things get??? I hope to come back online from a stressful trip and accursed exams to find loads of reviews in my inbox...that's what I really wish for...so please help me out! I'll miss you guys! See you! =)_


	10. The Life And Times Of A Panda Man

A/N : Hey, everyone! I'm back – missed me? =) Thanks for the reviews, they were a nice surprise when I checked my e-mail in Switzerland. I had a great time in Europe – _the boys! – but it's equally great to be back home. Ah, yes. Before I forget, someone who reviewed told me that some Malaysians may feel offended by my putting Cordelia Mey in the story and apparently making it sound like all Malaysians are evil or something of that sort. Just a note on this : I _am _Malaysian. As Cordy was supposed to be Asian (I didn't want Hogwarts to be completely Caucasian) I thought, OK, well, let's be patriotic today. Also, I am COMPLETELY against racism of any sort, so I apologize to anyone who took that whole Cordy thing the wrong way. And for those of you who don't know, if you review while signed in and/or if your e-mail address is visible, I'll automatically add you to a mailing list, so I can e-mail you whenever a new chapter comes out, and include a preview of the chapter as well. I figured it would be more convenient for you, but if you wouldn't like to receive the updates, please notify me in the review! Enjoy the chapter!_

Chapter Ten : The Life And Times Of A Panda Man

"She looked at him in sorrow and clutched the red rose to her breast – '_Take me now,' she said, '_for my father wishes me to marry with another. Never will _–'"_

"The hands of another man touch my huge bosom?" Angelina suggested.

I looked up at her and gave her an evil glare. "Don't interrupt me, you hyperactive baboon."

"But she got it right, didn't she?" Fred asked with a cheeky grin on his face. All of us – meaning the entire Quidditch team, except for Oliver – were lazing about on the Quidditch pitch during a rare break. Since we hardly ever got breaks during practice, we were making the most of the time we had while Oliver went to see Madam Pomfrey about his swollen cheek (courtesy of George). At first he had insisted on keeping on with practice, but when his cheeks got so puffed up that he couldn't see, Fred and George had courteously volunteered to frogmarch him up to the hospital wing.

Panda cheeks!

I looked down at the page I was reading to them and shook my head profusely. "Nope. It says, '_Never will the hands of another man touch my flowering bosom_.' There is a big difference."

I'm not very good at admitting that I'm wrong about things.

That is why I still believe that tomatoes are a vegetable.

"That is _disgusting_, Katie, can we please move on?" Harry asked, screwing up his face in disgust.

George clapped his hand on Harry's shoulder and shook his head, tutting away. "When you get older, Harry, you will fully appreciate the ancient art of bosom flowering. As for now, however..."

Harry pushed George's hand away in indignation. "I'm _thirteen_!"

"And then so," the twins said graciously.

Boys just don't appreciate good books. I mean, sure, they appreciate the bosoms in the books, but it's really not quite the same. Angie's practically a boy herself, I wonder whether she appreciates...? Oh, no. I won't even go there.

I mean, that's just not right.

"But you know, Muggles pay for that sort of flowering..." Alicia volunteered, trying to braid Fred's hair as much as his short hair would allow.

"Another reason why Muggles can be complete idiots," Angelina said lazily. "HEY!" Alicia and I interjected. Except for the both of us, the others are all Purebloods – but Alicia is a Muggleborn and I'm the _best_ of both worlds.

But I'm sure you already knew that.

"Not _all _Muggles are complete idiots – but I certainly know a few who fit said description," Harry muttered darkly, shaking his head.

The poor guy. I hear the Muggle relatives he lives with are, well, complete and utter idiots. At least they haven't fully gotten to him yet, if the rumours are indeed true. I mean, it wouldn't do us any good if The Boy Who Lived was a walking, talking psychopath.

But then he wouldn't be called The-Boy-Who-Lived, would he? He'd probably be called something to the extent of The-Boy-Who-Unfortunately-Lived. Or, you know, something.

I'm not very original with names.

But you have to admit it has a sort of ring to it.

"Children! Children!" a very familiar voice suddenly called, and we all looked up to see Madam Pomfrey marching towards us.

"_Pomfrey_? Out of the hospital wing? Be still, my beating heart," Angelina said, arching one of her eyebrows.

We slowly and lazily got to our feet as Pomfrey continued to walk towards us, probably with news of our beloved captain.

Angelina held a fist to my face as if she was a reporter interviewing me for The Witching Hour and said in a dramatic voice, "So, Miss Bell, how do you feel waiting for news of your beloved? Nervous? Afraid yet hopeful? Are any hives breaking out? Fred, check her."

Fred would have if I hadn't smacked his hands away and snapped, "You didn't get to feel me up five years ago and you're not going to get to feel me up now."

"Will next Saturday do you, then?" he asked, eyes wide.

Please enlighten me – Angelina actually _crushes _on this guy, right?

"Madam Pomfrey – I haven't seen you out of the hospital wing ever since...forever!" Alicia said as Pomfrey finally reached us. The poor thing looked slightly out of breath at having to walk across half of the Quidditch pitch in such a short time. I know she's the school nurse and everything, but holing herself up in that hospital wing so much can't be very good for her health. No wonder she's so unfit – maybe I should teach her yoga.

"Well, Miss Spinnet, I do not intend to be away from my patients for very long – who knows what they're doing up there now that I'm gone?"

Doing the hokey-pokey?

"I am merely here to inform you children that your captain and Keeper, Mr Wood, will not be able to return to practice this evening, so you may return to the Gryffindor tower if you wish. Please inform his professors that he will be back in class when the swelling in his cheeks has gone down. My, my, you lot seem to keep ending up in the hospital wing, don't you? Good evening," she said crisply and turned to walk away.

"What? No cuppa tea?" George murmured softly.

We stood for a while in a comfortable silence as the evening continued to get colder. It was now nearing the end of October – meaning that it was getting pretty darn cold towards night. I like the cold, though, it makes me feel alive. Angelina, however, is a different story.

"CURSE YOU! CURSE YOU, BLOODY ROTATING PLANET EARTH! CURSE YOU, PERSON WHO CREATED AUTUMN AND WINTER! CURSE YOU, ANYBODY WHO DARES STAND UP TO THE WRATH OF ANGELINA JOHNSON!" she was currently screaming to the heavens above. Meaning noone in particular.

"Does she do this a lot?" Harry asked softly, tugging on my sleeve.

"What, scream to herself or just go bonkers in general?"

"Both."

"You'd be surprised," I told him seriously, and Alicia added an, "Affirmative."

Fred rubbed his hands together and announced, "Well, people, I think we should head in. Oh, and somebody remind me to ask Oliver for earlier practices until winter blows over."

Huh. Let's just hope that he doesn't make us practice in a full-on blizzard like when we were in our fourth year.

I know I said the cold makes me feel alive, but that doesn't mean I want to be known as Katie Leigh Bell, the Living, Breathing Popsicle. See her in full icy regalia for just £5.99 (£3.99 on weekends and bank holidays)!

Oh, well. Oliver's dedicated to his sport, I can give him that. I suppose I can go visit him tomorrow – bearing goodies!

Luckily, the lisping doorknob was gone when I went to visit Oliver the next day. I sincerely prayed it had been fired for excessive use of lisp.

"Well, if it isn't Miss Bell. I thought you'd done a disappearing act on me," Oliver said (in a slightly affected accent thanks to his panda cheeks) when I walked in.

Seating myself on the chair by his bed, I gave him a weak smile. "I didn't want Pomfrey to hang me for bringing on extra worries to her sick, bedridden patients," I whispered, giving him a conspiratory wink.

Of course, the truth is that I was just too darn lazy to get out of my favourite armchair in front of the common room fire – but he doesn't need to know that.

Oliver gave me The Look for a second, as if guessing what I was thinking, but then grinned, "This isn't a replacement class, I presume?"

Oh, right.

I'm _that _hardworking.

"So..." the both of us said expectantly.

There was an awkward silence until Oliver quickly said, "So where are the others?" Panda Man to the rescue! Let no awkward situation or bamboo plant stand in his way! (Cue cheesy music.)

I shrugged. "The twins and the two freakazoids have gone off somewhere – something about buying you a stuffed panda. Although they sort of look like pandas themselves; they stayed up late last night playing strip poker in the common room and they have these awful black circles under their eyes, but I don't think they really mind because apparently George has a six-pack."

Oliver's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "_George Weasley _has a _six-pack_?"

"I know, I couldn't believe it either when Angie was raving about it this morning!"

I really couldn't, because George isn't the type of person you would expect to have a six-pack. Apparently, Lene nearly drooled all over herself when she saw him shirtless like that – take it off, baby, take it off!

"Um, Katie?" Oliver said tentatively, biting his lip.

"Yes, Orli?" I said pleasantly, reaching for a goblet of pumpkin juice that someone had brought for him.

"What's a six-pack?"

This, of course, caused me to spray recycled pumpkin juice all over Oliver, who proceeded to yell in fright, which proceeded to act as a warning bell for Madam Pomfrey, who proceeded to march right in and drag me out of the wing by my left ear, which proceeded to make me instinctively yell out and bite her hand, which proceeded to land me a detention.

You know, it has just occurred to me that biting your professors probably does not do wonders for your testimonial at the end of your schooling years. 

This is what Oliver does to your day.

"So, Katesies, I hear you went to see Oliver yesterday afternoon...how was lover boy doing?" Fred asked in a sing-song voice at dinner the next night. Everyone in our surroundings began ooohing and ahhhing until I pulled my wand out threateningly, which caused everyone to immediately begin picking at their food quietly.

"Why don't you lot go see him yourself?" I asked them, sliding my wand back into my robes.

"We have to – oof," George managed to get in before Alicia elbowed him in the stomach. Hard. "We have to....get that – thing. That – what was it? The, uh..." Alicia quickly interjected, looking around at the others helplessly.

"Stuffed panda?" I supplied helpfully.

"Right!" they all said very loudly and exchanged nervous glances.

Whoa. What's going on here? I may be Irish, but I'm not stupid.

"Guys? Are you okay? You're acting more than a little...strange," I said slowly, looking slowly around at my friends' guilty faces. "Hey, where are you going to get a stuffed panda anyway?"

"We, uh – we were going to get a spell from Professor – er," Angelina replied, her eyes scanning the Great Hall for the first available professor, "Snape! Professor Snape!"

The rest gave her death glares while I tried to make sense of this new information. "You wanted to get a spell to conjure up a stuffed panda from Professor SNAPE."

George suddenly banged down on the table hard with his fist, making all of us jump and look in his direction. His face and ears were bright red – something that only happened when he was nervous or wanted to hide something. "Er, well, we _were _going to see Snape about it, but we then decided to see...Professor Trelawney!"

"_Professor Trelawney?" we all chorused, looking at him in disbelief._

You really had to pity me.

I was surrounded by insane, panda-loving buffoons.

"What I mean is – Professor, uh, Binns. No, wait –"

"Did pandas even exist in Professor Binns' time?" I heard Alicia whisper to Lene, who replied, "I dunno, maybe they were...prehistoric or something. You know, killer pandas that know kung fu."

"You know, we happened to learn a Conjuring Charm during Charms the other day; why didn't you just use that?" I asked the seventh-years of the bunch – Alicia, Angelina and Lene.

They looked at me blankly for a second, each mirroring the expression of the others, and finally jumped up and ran out of the Great Hall, shouting something about needing to get some extra beauty sleep because there was an extra Quidditch practice session tomorrow.

For one thing, Oliver's not even out of the hospital wing yet.

For another thing, Lene isn't even _on _the Quidditch team.

Hmmm.

Awkward.

A/N : OK, this was a shorter chapter than normal, so sorry! Hope it wasn't too bad, though. For those of you who've figured it out – yes, Katie's 'panda-loving buffoons' were scheming to get Katie and Oliver together (please refer to the end of Chapter Nine if you don't remember Lene and Angelina making Katie's life miserable!). And this is the time when I need to ask you, faithful readers, for help. Here's the deal : there's a competition going on that I really want to win; the first prize is a new set of the five HP books and the nine consolation prizes are the 5th book. Since all my books are so worn out from my constant reading of them, I really need a new set! Basically, I'm supposed to create a new character for the series and describe the character (human or creature, good or evil) in 120 words or less. I'm kind of stuck for ideas (the only thing the boys in my class could come up with were 'Luke Skypotter', 'Harry Potter's evil twin brother', and 'Draco Malfoy's good twin brother'), so I hope you guys will be able to give me a couple of cool ideas! Apparently, the most 'imaginative and arresting' will win – the closing date of entry is June 20, which means I'll need to send my entry in on the 18th or 19th. That doesn't give me much time! Please just tell me what you think or what new character you'd like to see - I might just get inspired! Oh, and yes, my exams finally finished today – but I screwed my very last paper, Math 2. Ugh. Way to begin the end-of-exam celebrations, Lynn. Review, guys!


	11. Going Once, Going Twice

A/N : And here I am, back from the universe of the Order of the Phoenix – and I've finally hit 100 reviews! Yay! Thanks muchly to everyone who liked my story! =) Well, I don't have very much to say about this chapter – only that our favourite panda-loving buffoons have gotten to work and Katie is about to be severely mortified...*evil laugh* R&R!

Chapter Eleven : Going Once, Going Twice...

"Where _are _they?" I muttered to myself, poking my head into the library and still not finding a sign of my friends. Right when you need them, they just never to seem to turn up. In fact, I hadn't seen anyone for the past fifteen minutes that I had been walking around, which was really quite unusual for a Sunday night in Hogwarts.

"Katie!" a familiar voice suddenly called, and I spun around in relief to see George jogging up to me.

"Where on earth have you been? Look, I need to borrow – hey!" George had taken a firm hold on my shoulder and begun steering me in the direction of some God-forsaken place I didn't even want to think about. I mean, if _George Weasley _was dragging me some place, this couldn't be very good.

"George – oy, George, let me – where are we – what the –"

"Look, Katie," George finally said urgently, stopping and turning me around so I could face him, "something terrible's happened. We need to get to the Great Hall straight away, Professor Dumbledore's orders. There's been an attack, and – just – come on."

At first, I thought he was pulling some kind of joke on me – until I looked into his eyes and saw the urgency there.

"It's…it's not Lene?" I whispered, horrified.

For once, George appeared to be at a loss for words. "Come on," he finally said in a strangled sort of voice.

A few minutes later, I stumbled through the doors of the Great Hall with George tumbling to a halt beside me, expecting the worse.

I got the shock of my life.

Because for some reason, Lene looked perfectly healthy and was currently standing on top of the Gryffindor table, together with Alicia, Angelina, Fred, and a mountain of Butterbeer.

All eyes in the hall landed upon me the second I walked in, and the only thing my brain seemed able to process was, "Fire bad. Tree pretty."

That tends to happen when I experience an information overload.

"_Sonorus!_" I heard Lene distinctly say, pointing her wand at her throat; she now said, "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, presenting our entertainment for tonight – Katie Bell!"

Is my name Katie Bell?

I think I'd better owl home and check.

You know, just in case there was some sort of birth certificate-swapping crisis.

Slowly, I turned to face George, who was currently looking extremely cheerful. "Alright, so I'd say you've got about three seconds to tell me how Lene managed to make such a miraculous recovery," I snarled.

"Oh, just joking, thought I'd give you a scare," he said quickly.

"_Try again, Weasley._"

George gulped. "Er...magic?" he shrugged, and quickly ran off to join the others on the Gryffindor table, which had now apparently become some sort of stage – it even had a little podium on it.

"Miss Bell, if you would kindly proceed to step onto the stage?" Lene said graciously, flashing me one of her gorgeous smiles. I swear I saw a couple of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff boys sit up straighter after seeing that demonstration.

For some reason, everyone was looking at me in a strange sort of way – like they all knew something I didn't. They all had these huge grins on their faces...especially the boys.

"Katie? Are you with us?" Angelina now said, her voice magically magnified. A few people sniggered and I knew I was blushing like...like a cooked lobster.

You know, this is happening too much to be considered a coincidence; note to self : ask mom whether there is lobster blood in our family.

"_Wingardium leviosa!_" Fred said, swishing and flicking his wand, and I was immediately lifted off my feet and plopped onto the Gryffindor table on my bum.

Right, I know this isn't the most flattering pose for a girl to be in, but why is everyone looking at me like I'm about to be auctioned off?

Why?

_Why??_

Then I caught sight of the gavel on the podium and thought, "Ah, feck."

"Fellow students," Alicia, who apparently was acting as auctioneer for the night, announced, "The bidding will start at five Galleons."

"And remember," Angelina chimed in with a twinkle in her eye, "this auction is not limited to the boys only – young Miss Bell here would gladly spend the night with one of you ladies as well –"

"WHAT?" I bellowed when I finally realized what was going on. "You can't just auction me off like this! I'm off!"

I tried getting off the table, but Fred and George quickly yelled, "_Colloportus!_" and I collided with an invisible barrier.

_I will curse you into oblivion._

"Looks like she's got spirit! Six Galleons!" I heard a voice suddenly yell, and I spun around in shock – if I hadn't been mistaken, the bidder's voice had sounded remarkably like Draco Malfoy's. Sure enough, he gave me a roguish grin and winked the second I made eye contact with him. _You are four years my junior, and you're WINKING at me?_

I'M BLIND!

"Seven Galleons!" a Ravenclaw sixth-year yelled.

Alicia's face broke into a huge grin. "Seven Galleons for Miss Katie Bell! Do I hear eight Galleons?  Eight Galleons?"

"Eight Galleons!"

"Brilliant, do I hear ten? Ten Galleons for this fine young lady's company and a dinner sponsored by The Three Broomsticks – yes, you, young Slytherin! Ten Galleons! Do I have eleven? Katie, come on now, show them what you can do!"

I had begun to shake my head in protest, but George said, "_Tarantallegra!_" and I immediately began doing some sort of dance that seemed to be a cross between a cha cha and ballet – my feet didn't seem to be able to make up their mind which. Everyone laughed and Lee Jordan called, "Fifteen Galleons for the lady!"

Fred winked at Lee and finally said, "_Finite incantatem!" Before I could even begin to catch my breath, however, he waved his wand again and I immediately found myself starting to strut across the Gryffindor table as if I was on a catwalk, complete with hair-flipping and hip-sashaying._

The catcalls began; I could see Oliver (with his cheeks back to normal again) laughing his sorry arse off as three Hufflepuffs and a Slytherin yelled, "Sixteen Galleons!" at the same time.

Right, Mr Wood, it's easy for _you to laugh – __you aren't stuck up here parading around like a drunken house-elf that's had one too many Butterbeers. In heels!_

What is the point of all this, anyway? What are they hoping to achieve, other than completely mortifying me in front of the entire school?

"Now join us as Adelene Sullivan tells you the story of a little Irish girl named Katie Leigh Bell..." Alicia said seductively, and I felt like strangling her as I struck a pose and gave everyone a huge smile.

"Once upon a time," Lene began, "in the heart of Dublin, Ireland, there lived a very happy couple by the name of Andrew and Leighanne Bell. Andrew and Leighanne were the proud – well, maybe not so proud – parents of three beautiful children : Karé, Katie and Aderyn Bell."

"Eighteen!"

"Twenty!"

"When she was merely four years of age, Katie could already recite the Ten Commandments without a problem – although she was having slight bladder complications at the time. Er, but they're gone now!" Lene quickly added to the relief of the Hogwarts boys, judging by the sighs that were heard.

When you are posing like a hyperactive donkey with the entire school watching you while your bladder's life story is being revealed to the world by your very best friend, life officially sucks.

"An avid fan of romance novels, just like yours truly, Katie has always said that her most embarrassing moment happened when she and her well-endowed self accidentally flashed her grandfather."

Nonononono.

"In fact, she was so well-endowed by the age of eleven that everyone in our neighbourhood teased her of having implants."

One thousand pair of wide eyes were now staring at my – assets, which I was currently thrusting out thanks to Fred's spell. I noticed Oliver staring at me as well, the smile gone off his face now but his eyes following my every move, er, thrust; and all of a sudden I felt a hot blush creep up my neck. Oh, God, did they have to make me do this right in front of him?

No, wait…why do I even care?

At around this time, I gave a particularly vulgar thrust, which sent a roar of bids through the hall.

Despite the extreme mortification I was currently experiencing, for a split second I was really quite pleased that I was currently going for fifty-eight Galleons. By now, I wasn't sure whether the bidders even had the money they were offering Alicia.

"Of course, Andrew Bell did not approve of all these rumours, which meant that the boy next door got –"

"Lene, we're getting just a tad too graphic!" Angelina, who also knew the story of the cute boy next door, quickly cut in. Good move, Angie, not many people want to hear about botched circumcisions.

"I'm having her tonight!" a loud voice suddenly called, and I cringed at his phrasing as he continued, "_Eighty Galleons!"_

There was a stunned silence for a few seconds as everyone turned to regard the speaker : Marcus Flint.

Please excuse me while I projectile vomit.

"Do you even _have that sort of money, Flint?" Alicia asked brusquely into the silence._

None of us like him – and you can't blame us, because he looks like a constipated toad.

"I have about half of it, but I can pay in installments," he said, grin growing ever wider, probably knowing that no one would dream of spending more than eighty Galleons on me.

How overpriced can you get??

"We don't accept installments, you –"

"_Hush!_"

Fred seemed to realize I as still prancing up and down the table; he quickly waved his wand and muttered, "_Negate," and I slumped onto the table, out of breath._

"Well – er – do I hear more than eighty Galleons? Anyone?" Alicia continued weakly.

There was some muttering to be heard, but no one spoke up. I noticed Lene and Angelina shooting desperate looks at a certain Oliver Fransisco Wood, who was doing a very good job of ignoring them.

"Okay…well…I guess we can sort of…let Katie go to Flint for eighty Galleons…" Alicia was looking uncertain now, picking up the gavel.

Oh how the Slytherins were loving this.

Lene and Angelina looked at each other, panicking slightly.

Alicia shot me an apologetic glance as I fumed silently, watching her. "Last chance, people," she called out, knowing as well as I did that her efforts were highly futile.

I closed my eyes and sighed.

If I'm going to have a romantic session mano al mano with Marcus Flint, I'd better begin preparing myself. Step one : Blind self. Step two : Destroy all sense of hearing. Step three –

"AAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

My eyes flew open to see Oliver's left cheek swelling at an alarming rate, now making him look like a lopsided panda. It appeared that George had marched right over to him and…oh. Kicked him in the face.

"What the heck do you want?!" Oliver yelled. "I've just gotten out of the hospital wing, and I wasn't looking forward to going back there in less than a day!"

"Why aren't you bidding for Katesies?" George roared.

"I only have three Galleons with me, I spent the rest of my money on a new broomstick servicing kit!"

BANG.

Alicia had slammed down the gavel.

"Sold to Oliver Wood for three Galleons!" she declared, slightly on the frantic side.

"What the –" Marcus swore.

Oliver just looked around at everyone in bewilderment, clutching his cheek. He now not only looked like a lopsided panda, but a lopsided panda that was chewing on a Quaffle.

I was about to get up and check how Oliver's cheek was when Marcus suddenly came running for Oliver, who was still innocently seated at his spot at the table. "Oliver, look out!" Angelina shouted.

There was a huge bang and a purple flash; people were yelling and when the smoke cleared, I realized I had pulled out my wand.

Did I mention my best subject is Transfiguration?

"_Negate_," I said crisply, pointing my wand at the invisible barrier that had blocked me from getting off the table. I climbed off carefully and immediately pulled Oliver to his feet.

"Katie, what –"

"We're going back to the common room. I've got something that should help the swelling go down."

Both of us walked out of the Great Hall, leaving everyone to stare at Marcus Flint – the amazing piece of toast.

"That vicious, cold-blooded piece of toast," I muttered angrily, dabbing more of Madam Mungo's Reducing Cream onto Oliver's cheek. It was late, and we were the only ones left in the Gryffindor common room. Everyone else had avoided us and gone straight to bed, very wisely I might add, except for Fred – one of my looks immediately sent him off packing. "Merlin knows what they were even trying to do…"

Oliver winced as I touched a tender spot.

"Yes, well, I sort of got the gist of what they were doing, but I couldn't do anything to make them change their minds," he said helplessly.

I stopped mid-dab and sat back to look at him properly, astonished.

"See…they had gotten it into their heads that I would bid for you, and then…well, you know, we'd have dinner and they wanted you to maybe…er, fall for me," he finished. He wouldn't even look at me; his eyes seemed to find the scarlet carpet extremely interesting.

I felt a bubble of anger rise in me, but it quickly evaporated when Oliver finally looked at me.

"Look, thanks for this…whatever this is," he said, gesturing towards the bottle of cream I held in my hand. "We should get to bed now or we'll never be able to get up tomorrow…"

I was about to agree with him but something inside me stopped me from saying anything. I felt like I had to do something – anything, to stop him looking so sad about…well, whatever it was that wasn't making him smile…because I would give anything to see him smile his beautiful smile again…

No.

"Uh, right," I said, jumping up from the sofa, suddenly feeling extremely flustered. "I'll…see you tomorrow, then, at practice."

I didn't wait for a reply.

When I got back to the dormitory, bottle of cream in hand, I knew they were all pretending to be asleep.

I didn't care.

I didn't care that I hadn't changed out of my robes, either.

I didn't even care that I hadn't finished any of my schoolwork that was due to be passed up tomorrow.

And you know what made things worse?

The only thing I _did care about, as I tried to fall asleep, was Oliver Wood._

I woke up the next morning, extremely disgruntled, to find three pairs of staring eyes looking at me apprehensively.

"_You three_," I said coldly, turned over and tried to go back to sleep again.

"Oh, Katie, we're sorry, we really didn't mean for anything bad to happen, _honest –_"

"Oh, hush up, Lish! Katie, come on, we know you're awake…if you don't turn around and face us how on earth are we supposed to apologize to you?"

Hmmm. Angie had a good point there.

"Oh, fine," I grunted, sitting up to look blearily at all three of them – Alicia looking thoroughly miserable, Angelina looking frustrated and Lene looking very guilty.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Angelina said, rolling her eyes. "Are you done with your immensely immature tantrum yet? Once you've decided you're not angry at any one of us, we can think about apologizing to you."

Hold on, have I missed something?

"Look, I didn't ask for that – auction, or whatever it was last night; so if I'm not mistaken, _you three should be the ones apologizing to __me. And I did not throw a _tantrum_, of all things – that Flint deserved to be turned into wheat."_

Angelina looked like she was about to curse at me, but one look at my face probably stopped her in her tracks.

"Alright, alright, I suppose we should have asked you before pulling that stunt," she admitted. It is really quite cool watching her apologize to me, because she hardly apologizes to anybody.

"But, you know, Katie, if you knew what we were up to, you would never have let us do it in the first place!" Lene now said.

"You see, that's the point I'm trying to make here – you do NOT auction off your best friend to people like _Marcus Flint! And what was that all about, anyway? I mean, I've never tried auctioning any of you off but nooo, you just had to pull something like that on me with Fred and George no less and __why are all of you looking at me like that?"_

Alicia cleared her throat nervously

"Well, this was actually Lene's idea, because, er, according to Lene – this being her idea after all, Oliver being so much in love with you – according to Lene, of course, he would, well, bid for you and we – meaning Lene – would immediately let him have you for an all-night talking session – this, of course, also thought of by Lene, and Lene thought maybe…just maybe you two would…well, get together…thanks to Lene, of course, since this was all Lene's idea…Would you like me to further clarify Lene's idea on behalf of Lene if you didn't understand the fact that this was Lene'sidea meaning _this was all Lene's idea?"_

Sorry, Lish, but the only thing I managed to pick up was sort of Lenelenelenelenelene.

"Have you gone mad? About Lene?" I asked Alicia bluntly.

Alicia looked at me with this sort of deer-caught-in-the-headlights look until Lene finally cut in, "Yes, for Merlin's sake, it was my idea, but we wouldn't even have to have done all this if it weren't for you and your immense stubborn streak!"

For once, she caught me off my guard.

"What?"

"You just completely refuse to see that you like Oliver, don't you? Oh, please forgive us for trying to make our two friends happy," Lene said sarcastically, all traces of guiltiness now gone.

This cannot be happening to me.

"No, it's just you people who can't seem to see the truth : that _I don't like Oliver that way. _He makes a great friend, that's fine, and he's a great Quidditch captain to have as well – but that's all he is to me! The day I fall in love with Oliver Wood is the day he gives up Quidditch for the rest of his life. Meaning never. Got me?"

I meant every word I said, I know I did – but there was a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach as I said this.

"Katie, Oliver is handsome, funny and an all around nice guy. He may not be Albus Dumbledore in the brains department, but he's a great catch – don't you see how lucky you are to have someone like Oliver who's interested in you? Most girls would _kill to go out with him –"_

"Well, I'm not most girls. So will you please stop insisting that the both of us are – are soulmates or whatever it is you think?"

Alicia, Angelina and Lene exchanged glances, and they looked down at their laps as one.

"Fine," Angelina said softly. "Fine."

They got up without looking at me and began to head toward the door.

"No, hold on, don't get mad at me –" I began. This was all going wrong – shouldn't I be the one who's angry, after they embarrassed me in front of the entire school? After they made me use magic on a fellow student? After they made me start feeling something different towards Oliver?

"We're not mad at you, Katie," Alicia said, turning back to look at me for a second. "I suggest you hurry, breakfast will be over in fifteen minutes."

They're lying.

They're mad at me, I know they are.

Everything is going wrong…and it's all Oliver's fault. I know it is.

So that's it. I am going to get myself some Oliver withdrawal – no more Oliver for me.

No more Oliver.

None at all.

A/N : Yikes, this chapter didn't turn out how I wanted it to after all. I mean, Oliver withdrawal? Maybe it was due to me watching Buffy at the time – you know, dark, depressing, wanting to be dead, yada yada yada…gosh I love Buffy, it's so optimistic. =) Well, this should at least buy me a couple more chapters. And it actually kinda works with what I wanted to happen, so that's cool. But since Buffy has just come back on, I'll just quickly apologize if you now hate me. Flame if you want…but please let me know what you think!


	12. Much Ado About Nonplussation

A/N : Oh, the reviews! *dies of cardiac arrest but gets revived by Philosopher's Stone* Yes, I know many other authors have got much more reviews than I currently do, but I still feel great! Thank you! Yes, I know, the last chapter was depressing. *hides from readers* Sorry sorry sorry. Nice to know that you enjoyed the auction, though, because I wasn't feeling too great about that. Now a special note about this chapter and the chapters to come : in response to numerous requests, I shall be writing in Oliver's POV for this chapter, and probably for the next four chapters as well – but after this I will be switching back and forth from Katie and Oliver's point of view, depending on how the story develops. I won't be switching them right in the middle of a chapter, that'd be confusing, but each person will have a different chapter to themselves. I may not be doing a very good job of explaining this. =p I'm not sure whether this is considered good or bad, but oh well, I'm the author so you're going to have to live with it. Just tell me what you think about it in a review, so if you're not happy with the way things are turning out I'll try and do something about it. Key word : review. OK, people, remember : if you don't give me your e-mail address in your reviews, I won't be able to e-mail you if I update the story. Ah, yes, I've made a mistake. Heh. A glaring error in the scheduling of the Quidditch matches. In chapter eight (I think) I stated that the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff match would be held on the day before Christmas – conveniently forgetting, of course, about a little thing called the Christmas holidays. As I'm too lazy to go back and change it *blush*, just pretend I didn't say anything about it, okay? The actual date of the match will be announced in this chapter. Oh, and someone asked me about the "Fire bad tree pretty" thing, yeah it was from Buffy, and yes I am extremely upset that Buffy ended. And Spike died, which is totally not fair because he was hot. Hmph. Great, you've got me disgruntled now, that'll be great for the chapter. Oh wait NO!!! Okay I've just found out that my idea for Katie to transfigure Marcus Flint into a piece of toast has already been done before by another author (although her piece of toast was someone else, I think). My humblest apologies, and since we used almost the same wording, I did NOT copy her and would like to beg for the forgiveness of anyone who feels I have wronged her…I dunno, right as an author or something.

**Oliver's POV**

Chapter Twelve : Much Ado About Nonplussation

My cheek hurts.

I mean, it really, really hurts.

It doesn't hurt enough to keep me from holding Quidditch practice this evening, but that doesn't mean I'm particularly happy about looking like a panda, either. Of course, I don't think I'll ever mention this to the twins, because I'm probably the only one who thinks I look like a panda (of all the animals in the world!). But I'm sure I make a darned sexy panda.

In a kilt, Hawaiian shirt and leather jacket.

Damn that Katie Bell.

"Mr Wood, do pay attention to your diamond, it's getting away," said Professor McGonagall sternly, glaring slightly at me for dozing off in class.

"_Accio diamond!_" The echidna I had only half-managed to transfigure into a diamond was currently rolling over itself in an effort to get away from me; it zoomed back into my outstretched hand with an indignant squeak.

I hate Transfiguration.

In fact, I just hate anything that has to do with studies in general. The only subjects I can put up with nowadays are Potions and History of Magic, mainly because I don't want to make a fool of myself in front of Katie during our tutoring sessions. No matter how hard I try, though, I never seem to be good enough for her…

"_Negate," I sighed and the sort-of-diamond became an echidna once more. Oh, great. Katie's watching me. In fact, she has been since the beginning of class. Just wonderful. She looks pissed, too. This day just keeps getting brighter and brighter._

I prepared myself to be threatened with castration as the unspoken tension between us mounted higher and higher – and then I saw a spark of emotion in her eyes, and she looked away from me to concentrate on her glittering pile of diamonds.

Huh?

Needless to say, that was certainly unexpected.

I suddenly heard an extremely loud elongated squeak – my echidna had fallen off the table less than gracefully – but then there was an "_Immobiliarbus!" and it froze in mid-air, squeaking away plaintively._

Katie levitated the echidna back onto my desk with an accusatory glare like the ones I was currently receiving from all the girls in the classroom, and turned away again.

Geez. What's got _her _knickers in a twist?

If I recall correctly, I should be the one who's angry here, what with the panda cheek and so on, and so forth. Plus I almost had to spend my last three Galleons on her last night. It's lucky she turned Marcus into a piece of toast, or my money would have gone down the drain. Or perhaps I'm being a little insensitive, on the account of her, you know, not being interested in me and all.

Maybe she's a lesbian.

Women.

I mean, first she was acting all "Oh I really like you Oliver" and all of a sudden it's "I thought you were gay!", and then suddenly she goes on and on about milk, or something.

Are all Irish this insane?

No, I highly doubt it – Katie's unique. She's one of a kind, she really is, which is probably why I like her so much. I've seen her at her worst and I've seen her at her – um, worst, but I'm still absolutely positive on how I feel about her. And nothing's going to change that, not even if I get charged down by stampeding horny badgers. Do badgers get horny?

"_Ahem."_

Whoops.

"Hey, professor," I said nervously, and quickly tapped the echidna with my wand three times. "_Glitra_."

Please let it work, please it work, please let it work – oh. It worked.

Heeeeeeey. It worked!

Check out me and my bad self!

"Five points to Gryffindor, Mr Wood, for you first successful transfiguration this term," McGonagall said approvingly, then moving on to check on Katie.

"Miss Bell?"

"Er, yeah –" she said, a little flustered at first but regaining her composure, "_Glitra __massa." Six more diamonds were added to her pile, which then glimmered a pretty shade of blue for a second and then turned into a towering pile of sapphires._

"Very good," McGonagall commended, her lips stretching into a thin smile.

Hey! The lady can smile after all!

"Fifteen points for that excellent show of work, Miss Bell. Perform like this for your N.E.W.T.S. and you'll do fine."

"Thanks, professor," Katie murmured, smiling slightly.

Oh, I love you, professor, you made her smile!

Not literally, of course.

I mean, I don't literally love as in _love _you.

Perish the thought.

I looked at my watch and sighed. It was the second of November; my younger sister's birthday. I won't be able to wish her until I go back home for the Christmas holidays because I don't have an owl. It died last year. Got hit by a stray Bludger. Ironic, really, because its name was Beater. As long as Fred or George don't follow up that display, especially since our first match against Hufflepuff will be two weeks after the match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin, which is tomorrow.

"Very well, everyone – please finish transfiguring your last echidna!" McGonagall called to the class.

I could see Angelina, who was stationed at the desk next to mine, poking her echidna with her wand desperately, repeating "_Glitra! Glitra! Glitra! You stupid thing, glitra!"_ It finally gave a loud, final squeak before transforming into an acorn.

She cursed under her breath, loudly enough for me to hear her.

"Well, it is sort of…shiny," I offered, trying to make her feel better.

She snorted. "You know what else is shiny? Dumbledore's arse. That's right, Dumbledore's shiny arse. In fact, let's make a fan club for his arse – we'll call it the Dumbledore's Shiny Arse fan club. The D.S.A. How about that? No, that may be too long; how about the Dumbledore's Arse fan club, the D.A. – no. The D.A. sounds lame."

She's right. No one in their right mind would name any society the D.A.

Sheesh.

"May I please have your attention? Now, as you all know, most of you will be returning to your homes for Christmas soon. Please confirm with your parents whether you will be staying here in Hogwarts for Christmas; I will be collecting the names of those who are staying sometime during the first week of December. I would also like to remind you that your first N.E.W.T.S. trial examination will be held when you get back to school, so try not to slack off too much while enjoying yourself. You may go," McGonagall said, removing her glasses wearily.

The bell had rung at that moment, so together we all rose, stomachs rumbling and ready for supper.

"Ravenclaw and Slytherin tomorrow, mate – care to make a wager?"

Xander Douglas grinned at me suggestively, eyebrows raised.

"I can't," I said as the both of us began to stroll to Gryffindor Tower leisurely; Xander snorted in disbelief and I reinforced, "I _can't_, because I haven't got any money left. Fred and George made off with my last three Galleons, the bloody plonkers."

"But you didn't even get a romantic evening with that Katie girl!"

My stomach flipped slightly; I really wish people would stop mentioning her name. "I know, but they took my money anyway – something about funding Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, whatever that means…"

Xander shook his head, jumping nimbly over a vanishing step, much to Peeves' dismay. "That asshole's still trying to get me after that whole Filch incident. I swear…"

"What, another Filch incident? What happened this time?" I asked, genuinely confused. That's weird, I usually know about everything that happens to Xander – he _is one of my closest friends, after all. I guess this time I was too occupied with Ka – Quidditch, it must have completely slipped my mind._

"He caught me snogging Elaine in that broom closet opposite that statue of Ursula the Ubiquitous and wanted to tell on us to Filch, but –"

Merlin's beard.

Not _again._

"Elaine? You were snogging _Elaine?_ I thought she said –"

"Yeah, well, she never means anything she says; besides, she'd never actually tell Mum, would she?"

Just so you know?

"But still, Xand, you can't go around snogging your _twin sister – it's just not right!"_

Yup.

Elaine is Xander's sister.

"For your information, Liverboy, I was merely experimenting," Xander said in a tone that suggested snogging your own flesh and blood was a perfectly normal everyday thing.

And for him, it probably was.

"Experimenting," I snorted in disbelief, ducking a badly-aimed slice of blueberry cheesecake – or something that looked suspiciously like blueberry cheesecake, knowing Peeves.

"Absolutely," Xander shrugged, pausing before the Fat Lady's portrait to look at me for a second. "I was wondering how long it would take for her to notice that I was her brother."

Oh, right, that's an excuse.

I mean, I have to admit that Elaine Douglas _is _gorgeous – I mean, that girl is the Quidditch World Cup on legs. So she has brains (she's in Ravenclaw) and beauty, plus a great body to boot…meaning no one can blame Xander for taking such an interest in his sister.

Right.

"Sugarplum," he said; the Fat Lady swung aside and we both crawled through the portrait hole and into the common room. He finally let his face slip into a sheepish grin before turning to me and saying, "I really shouldn't be snogging my twin sister, should I?"

Hahaha.

"No, Alexander. You shouldn't."

He looked at me for a while, sobering up. After years of trying, I have finally managed to get through to him. Merlin, it took him long enough. "Maybe she's not my twin sister, maybe there was –"

"Argh!" I managed to yell, and marched off to the dormitory we shared, ignoring his cries of protest behind me.

"No, seriously, Liverboy, maybe there was this family, right? And they were all poor and everything and had Elaine but couldn't afford to keep her, and it just so happened we were both born around the same time so the medics decided, 'Oh, well, guess what, you've got a twin brother now, ickle Elaine!' without bothering to check whether I was as good-looking as she was, because oh _no, medics are just too good for us little people, aren't they? My mum always _did _say Muggle doctors were an insensitive, irresponsible bunch, and now…"_

But I never managed to hear what exactly Mrs Douglas thought of doctors, because at that very second I opened the door to our dormitory and there, standing in the middle of the room in full glory, was an extremely disfigured-looking girl in a pink tutu.

"GAH!!!" Xander yelled as soon as he saw what I had seen and struck a defensive pose. "THAT IS THE _UGLIEST _GIRL I HAVE EVER SEEN!" He pointed an accusing finger at our roommate, Daniel, and continued, "WHAT THE _HELL _WERE YOU THINKING?!"

Yes, Daniel, _what the hell were you thinking?! _I've seen dogs looking better than her, for heaven's sake –

"It's Harry, you nincompoop," Daniel said, rolling his eyes.

Holy shit, even her name is wrong.

Xander's eyes widened and he began to scream.

"EVEN HER NAME! EVEN HER NAME! WERE HER PARENTS DRUNK WHEN THEY NAMED HER? NO SODDING SELF-RESPECTING MOTHER CALLS HER DAUGHTER HARRY –"

"It's Harry _Potter_, you blithering idiot, and Harry happens to be very much a _boy_."

Silence.

"OHMYGODYOU'REGAY –"

"I am _not!"_

Harry, looking as awful as ever – I had just noticed that he was wearing a particularly striking shade of lipstick and eyeshadow –  just stood there watching the exchange, right hand twitching dangerously as he held his wand; so I, being the very voice of Logic Itself, decided to step in before things got any worse than they already were.

"MY NAME IS PANTYMAN AND I'M HERE TO SAVE THE WORLD!!!"

And this, children, is why you should never see Swan Lake.

Three heads whipped around to stare at me.

"Que?" Harry said, nonplussed.

"What?" all three of us said, nonplussed.

"Yeah?" Harry said, nonplussed.

"Huh?" all three of us said, nonplussed.

This was beginning to resemble a pattern.

"Look, I just came up here to get some help," Harry finally said. "As you can see, I'm stuck in this pink frilly thing…"

And Katie thought _my _fashion sense was bad.

"Well, take it off," Xander said in a "duh" tone, then quickly added, "Just…not in front of us."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, because I didn't think of trying to take it off. Instead, I had to come up with an extremely complex plan that caused me mucho embarrassment just because I felt like it. Volde – sorry, You-Know-Who must be bloody having a field day."

Geez, I had always thought he was slightly lacking in the brains department, but this really takes the cake.

Would it make me a very bad friend if I said "you're dumb"?

"I'm _joking, Wood," Harry said exasperatedly, noticing the look on my face._

Right. Which is why I never would.

"Oh! Of course you are!"

D'oh.

"So as I was saying, Fred and George enchanted this stupid thing and now I can't get it off – they say the enchantment's not going to wear off until tomorrow night, and I can't go to the match tomorrow wearing _this!" he raged, and began to stomp around pointlessly, poking things with his wand and making them turn hot pink in the process._

"Oy!" Daniel yelled; Harry had just turned his bedspread pink and was now proceeding to the bathroom. "Stop! Halt! Stand still! Do a pirouette! _Something!_"

To our surprise. Harry's included, he spun gracefully en pointe and landed in what could only be called a graceful manner.

In fact – 

"That was a pirouette! I know, because Lanie – you know, my sister, Elaine – constantly tries to do one of those – but she can't, she keeps falling on her face – _how do you know how to do a pirouette?" Xander asked, looking completely mystified._

"Well," Harry began, looking slightly uncomfortable, "according to Fred and George, they also enchanted this – _thing_ – so that the wearer would be able to perform any ballet trick they are commanded to…"

Ooh, he's definitely looking more than just a little uncomfortable now.

"Oh, really?" Xander and Daniel said in unison, grins slowly appearing on their faces.

Harry backed away from the two of them, looking at each of them in turn and saying warily, "Hey, I came here for _help_ – you're seventh-years, you're supposed to be the mature ones…oh, bloody hell…"

I looked at my watch; it was getting later and I hadn't even had dinner – I was going to be late for Quidditch practice (Merlin forbid!) if I didn't hurry. It was really too bad; I mean, it's not very often that you get to see The Boy Who Lived dancing ballet in a pink, fluffy tutu. From fighting You-Know-Who to dancing ballet, the Boy Who Lived can do anything! "Potter, don't be late for practice," I called over my shoulder as I left the room.

"_What? I'm not going for practice wearing _this_!" Harry bellowed indignantly._

That boy should really sort out his priorities – like embarrassing yourself by walking around the school in a pink tutu and everlasting makeup should ever stop you from attending your house team's Quidditch practice.

Huh.

Pre-teenagers.

Something's wrong with that girl.

Don't get me wrong, something has always been wrong with her – I mean, she's _weird – but SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH THAT GIRL._

I tried to say hi to her earlier in the changing rooms, but she just ignored me.

What is up with that? What have I ever done to her to make her so…what's the word…pissy?

"She's in a state of denial," Angelina informed me as I handed her back the Quaffle I had just saved. "I mean, I haven't talked to her since The Incident Involving The Auction, but it's really quite obvious."

I gave her a Look (which I actually have been practicing on for a while, and I think it's nearly perfect – I wonder whether anyone has noticed) that showed her that I thought nothing of her observation. And it was quite fair of me to think that, too, because Angelina's observations are usually warped, insane, and generally stupid.

A Quaffle zoomed past me into one of the hoops and before I knew it, Alicia's face was right in mine, waving her hand in front of my eyes.

"Saturn to Oliver? Oh, there you are – I was beginning to think you were sleeping with your eyes open or something – what's wrong? No, wait, don't tell me, it's Katie, isn't it? Well she's not talking to us either – currently, we're not sure who's mad at who, but we're not talking to her just to be safe – so we can't exactly help you there. Actually, I've got a great idea – oh, hold on, Angie's coming over to practice and I have to go convince George that ham tastes better than cheese, I'll just ask Adelene to tell you later – bye, Oliver!"

And she zoomed off again.

"What was all that about?" Angelina asked me as soon as she got to me, looking back at Alicia who was currently involved in a very energetic debate with George.

"She's talking too much again."

"Ah."

There was a comfortable silence between us as I looked around the pitch, enjoying the cool evening air – almost too cold, in fact, but I wasn't going to stop holding practices for a while yet. In fact, everything was rather dandy until I spotted Katie lurking near the ground in a corner of the pitch by herself. Angelina followed my gaze and grabbed my arm quickly. "Oh, no," she shook her head. "Don't even go there."

"But wh –" I broke off as Katie suddenly looked up at us as if sensing we were talking about her, flashed me a cold look and turned her back on me.

"That's why," Angelina replied sadly, and gave me a sympathetic pat on the arm before flying off.

You know that plan Alicia had?

Well, it had better be good, because nothing short of a stampede of raging Manticores is going to make her talk to me again.

I just wish I knew why.

Practice passed in a blur of me drifting into dreamland, occasionally punctuated with an effort by Fred or George to knock me off my broom. I also received six more looks from Katie, sometimes they were death glares and sometimes they looked all sad and confused, like a lost little puppy dog.

If you ever tell any of the guys I said that, I'll kill you.

I finally walked into the common room with my arms loaded with some heavy books Katie had asked me to read up a while before, a heavy feeling in my stomach.

"Hello," Katie said coolly as I sat down, eyes not meeting mine.

"Er, hi."

Suave, Wood, really suave. Bet you charmed the socks off her, you did.

"I thought we'd get started on the Rising of the Merpeople today, if we finish that by the end of next week we'll be two chapters ahead of Professor Binns. Get out your quill, I'll dictate the important points again."

And so it went on.

On and on, utterly boring and completely impersonal.

Where was the Katie I liked so much? I – no. No, no, she's in there somewhere. I know she is. I'm not giving up on her yet.

"Okay, that's it for tonight. Goodnight."

I looked up from my piece of parchment filled with doodles and notes in my messy handwriting as if I had been jerked out of a stupor of sorts – Merlin, Katie can be more boring than Binns when she wants to be.

Without another word, she gathered up her things and left the room.

That's _it?_

Feeling slightly miffed, I was about to leave as well when Adelene crept down the stairs toward me.

"Hey, Adelene," I greeted her, feeling slightly surprised. "Isn't it a little late? Why aren't you in bed yet?"

"Oh, Alicia asked me to pass you a message – she was going to do it herself but she kind of…well, fell asleep. You know, you might start thinking about shortening those practices of yours…sorry. Anyway, she says you should invite Katesies to Hogsmeade on Sunday. And I have to go and sleep now, or you'll be stuck carrying me up three flights of stairs. Goodnight!"

That's _it!_

Why didn't I think of this before? I can ask Katie to go to Hogsmeade with me on Sunday!

But she's not exactly talking to me, is she? So…would she spend a whole day with me? Alone? Mano al mano? Just the two of us?

Who knows?

A/N : And the chapter is OVER!!! I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have taken such a long time. Review and yell at me to hurry it up with the next chappie and I probably will, 'kay? Have a great day! =)


	13. Sky, Stands And A Little Bit Of Katie

A/N : Ah, shit. I've just been reading a HP parody and now everything I'm writing seems parody-ish. I had to delete a whole bunch of stuff I wrote, all because of the whole typical parody fare. There was a duel with light sabers over a pink fluffy thong, Oliver got a cardiac arrest but then decided he had to get up so that the readers would be happy and touched and would squee with delight and I mean, _really_. I was halfway into the chapter's first half before I realized what I was doing – making the characters sing a rousing rendition of…no, I'm sorry, you don't want to know. The amount of reviews for the last chapter were miniscule – ouch, guys, was it really that bad? ::prays for more reviews this chappie:: You know, I'm not sure I should even have put in that thong in the beginning of the chapter, it's way too parodized…::hides from folk who wrote the Oxford Dictionary:: Forgive me if this chapter becomes an all-singing, all-dancing extravaganza. It's really not my fault, it's that Harry Potter And The Prisoner Of A Cabana…

**Oliver's POV**

Chapter Thirteen : Sky, Stands And A Little Bit Of Katie

I woke up this morning with a funny sort of feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Today's the day!" I crowed to nobody in particular, jumping out of bed and proceeding to trip on somebody's pink fluffy thong.

"What the –" I said, staring at the thong and reaching over to pick it up, completely mystified.

Yes, yes, I was mystified, I've never actually gotten to observe a thong up close before, and this is the perfect opportunity for me to bond with the more famous bunch of the underwear species…

At this moment, Xander walked out of our adjoining bathroom, toweling his wet hair and glanced at me for a second. "Hey, could you pass my thong over, please?"

"GAAAAAH!" I yelled, and flung it over to the other side of the room wildly.

It landed on Joshua Harper's head.

Josh then proceeded to go through the Complete, Unabridged Dictionary Of All Swear Words, Threats And Remotely Dangerous-Sounding Phrases Long Gone And In Current Use backwards, forwards, and then in seventy-four different languages. Round and repeat. Round and repeat. Round and repeat.

Xander delicately picked _his_ – shudder – thong off Josh's head, ducking a flailing fist aimed for his groin area. He shot me a "What do you think's up with him?" look and walked back into the bathroom.

"Today's the day, alright," I muttered and sank back into bed.

Seeing Xander and his pink, fluffy thong first thing in the morning cannot be a very good sign. He and his stupid thong have probably messed up the rules of the universe, changed my lucky star's course through the skies, turned the heavens against me; I'm not going out there into the Real World now and risk being Katied into oblivion…

"Right, the bathroom's free, help yourselves…" Xander called, coming out of the bathroom clad in his robes – I had a mental image of a very pink, very fluffy thong hiding underneath that black mass of fabric…

I let out a strangled cry and quickly ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. For the moment, I was safe from Xander's thong. His pink…fluffy…

NO!

Okay, let's not think about Xander. Let's think about…think about…Katie. Of course, she's all I've been able to think about for a while now, so it wouldn't really make much of a difference.

It was never like this with Cordelia. That girl is an ice queen, and I swear, I don't know how I ever managed to stay with her for so long in the first place. As for _Katie_, however…

Right.

That reminds me.

Today is the day, after all.

Get your arse in gear, Oliver, because today _you will succeed in seducing Katie Bell in the most manly yet sensual way possible!_

Amen.

The excitement was contagious as my four roommates and I climbed up the stands of the Quidditch pitch. So was a particularly bad cold that had been going around the school lately and steadily getting worse as December ever approached. As David and Josh once again reminded us of the beauty and freedom that would await us if we chose to lead the Path of Bisexuality, my stomach turned as I caught sight of Katie sitting at the far end of the stands by herself. Angelina, Alicia and Adelene – the triple As – were clearly nowhere near her.

"Hey, guys, I'll see you after the match, alright?" I said and sprinted off to her, ignoring David's miffed voice saying, 'Well, if he didn't want to hear about our escapades in the Shrieking Shack, he could have just _asked."_

I slowed my pace as I neared her, praying that she hadn't seen or heard me coming. What if she transfigured me into a piece of toast, like she did to Marcus Flint? I mean, not to be a ponce or anything, but I personally think I'm above rye status…perhaps _French_ toast would be a better alternative…

"WOOD!"

I had just enough time to register this before my mind took in these three things : Sky, stands, Katie, sky, stands, Katie, sky, stands, Katie.

Round and repeat.

Round and repeat.

Then with a loud thud, ground met Oliver.

I opened my eyes to see Katie's wide ones looking into mine. Then I realized the position we were both in was hardly one that any professor would approve of, so I quickly got to my feet, offering her my hand to help her up.

"Crap, I'm sorry, Katie, I didn't see you –" I stuttered as she seized my hand, nearly pulling me off balance.

"Well, that was rather obvious," she replied sarcastically. Seeing my forlorn face, something in her expression seemed to soften. "It's okay, Oliver – I'm just a little miffed at flashing the entire school since I'm not wearing anything under these robes and all. No biggie."

Homina homina homina!

"Excuse me?" I blurted out, taking a step back from her and feeling extremely embarrassed for a second. For a second. Because then the extreme too-much-information-combined-with-much-excitement crept in. "You really…aren't…wearing anything…as in _anything_…underneath your robes?"

Katie gave me a strange look. "Of course I am, Oliver, it's bloody freezing out here – have you lost your mind?"

I looked at her and ran a hand shakily through my hair, feeling very confused.

"But…but you said…"

I am calm. _I am calm._

"I was _joking, Oliver. You know, pulling your leg? Taking the mickey?"_

"Blowing your butt trumpet?"

Both of us spun around in surprise to see George behind us, listening to our every word.

"I'm sorry?" Katie said.

"Did somebody blow their butt trumpet? Because it smells awful down here…I take that as a no?" George finally guessed, looking at the expressions on our faces. "Alright, kids, since there doesn't seem to be anything wrong, might I suggest the two of you SIT DOWN because I'm trying to enjoy the game with Lene."

He grabbed Katie and I by our sleeves and proceeded to march us over to a bench, sitting us down there and finally saying oh-so-graciously," Thank you."

And then he walked off again.

Well, at least he saved me the trouble of asking her whether I could sit down with her.

"Katie, I know you've been ignoring me lately but please don't leave me!" I suddenly said in a rush, wincing the very second the words fell out of my lips.

I mean, could I SOUND any more desperate?

To my surprise, she just said, "Uh…okay?"

And the atmosphere between us was left like that for the first three quarters of the game, because I was too much of a chicken to say a word to her. I have to admit, I was surprised I wasn't already a melted pool of nothingness on the bench. Slytherin was currently in the lead and there had been a nasty incident involving Roger Davies and Draco Malfoy, but other than that, the match was getting boring – even for an avid Quidditch fan like me.

"That Malfoy wouldn't be able to catch a Snitch if it were hovering right next to him – oh, wait, that actually did happen once, didn't it?" I finally ventured, breaking the silence that lay between Katie and I.

"Yep," she replied, eyes trailing after one of the Ravenclaw Chasers.

"And that Davies – he can't play at all, can he? I've seen chipmunks playing better than him…"

"I think he's pretty good," Katie cut in.

"You do?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," she said, finally turning to me.

"Katie?"

"What?"

"You're being a bitch."

If I were a girl, I'd give a great big "Meow" right about now.

"Excuse me?" she said, looking completely thrown.

"You're being a bitch," I told her calmly – nothing like I was feeling inside – and turned back to the match, trying to ignore her staring at me in shock on my right.

Call me insane and I would agree with you.

"And…and what makes you think I'm being a bitch, exactly?" she finally spluttered out.

I turned to her and gave her a look that implied many, many things; all of them wise and all-knowing. As they should be.

Of course, I suppose you wouldn't expect anything less from _me._

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, don't give me that Look crap," she snapped and turned away again to watch as Montague scored once again for Slytherin.

And she asks me why I think she's being a bitch?

But then I realized something very interesting.

"That 'Look crap'? Pray tell, what 'Look crap' are you referring to?"

I noticed a hot flush creep up Katie's neck as she mumbled something completely illegible to human ears.

"I'm sorry?" I said politely. Oh, my dear old mum would be so proud!

"Oh, come on, you know what I mean," she said irritably, apparently still watching the game with avid interest, ignoring the fact that I was currently waving my hand so close in front of her eyes that she wouldn't be able to see a thing in the first place.

"No, Katie, I'm afraid I don't," I responded in the same polite tone. "You see, the term 'Look crap' is not something one usually hears in normal, everyday conversations."

She finally turned to look at me, eyes flashing angrily.

"Oh, come off it, Orli, you big buffoon –"

"I'm a big what?"

"A buffoon! A buffoon with that stupid Look of yours that makes me feel like either smacking you or k-"

She stopped abruptly, eyes widening, and she clapped her right hand over her mouth. "No, no, bad Katie!" I hear her murmur indistinctly.

"Um…Katie?" I ventured tentatively. "Are you alright?"

"Yes!" she said a little too quickly. I watched as her shoulders sagged and she suddenly looked extremely tired. In the background, I heard the Ravenclaws cheer as their Beater nearly knocked one of the Slytherin players off his broom. All of a sudden, I had a feeling that maybe I had gone too far – maybe she had bitten off more of whatever it was than she could chew.

I was about to tell her to forget about the whole darned thing when she suddenly said, "I'm sorry, Oliver."

I blinked.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I know I've been horrible to you for a while now – _and will you please pay attention to me and not to the match because I'm never apologizing to you again – and I know this probably doesn't make a whole lot of sense right now, but nothing actually does if you really think about it and you have no idea how much pressure I'm under right now but –"_

"Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me?"

"Huh?"

"Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me?" I asked again, as patiently and kindly as I could.

She looked taken aback for a moment. "I – I can't, because – because –"

My heart sank slightly. Why was she refusing? Why –

"Oh, screw it. Alright. I'll go."

Now _I was the one who was taken aback._

"Are you…are you serious?" I finally managed to say.

Now that she had actually agreed, I didn't feel too cool and calm any more. Funny how much life can suck that way.

"Please, Oliver," Katie said, rolling her eyes, and for the first time that day she gave me a small smile. "Have you ever known me to be serious, in all the seven years we've known each other?"

"Oh. You mean…?"

"No! No, no, I'd love to go with you. In fact…it'd probably do me some good. Really. I – I'm glad you asked me."

And she smiled a beautiful smile at me, and in the background I could hear the crowd screaming at fever pitch as one of the Seekers caught the Snitch. My usual, Quidditch-obsessed self would have cursed myself at missing the climax of the match, in fact at missing almost the entire match – but strangely, I didn't seem to care about either of the above. Because Katie was smiling at me, and the both of us were going to be going to Hogsmeade the very next day. I hadn't felt this happy in a long, long time.

Of course, the first thing I did when I got back to the Gryffindor Tower was ask Xander for a full commentary of the match.

What, you didn't expect me to give up Quidditch for life, did you?

Huh.

Perish the thought.

A/N : Yay! Another chapter finished! God, I know this took ages as well, and I am so sorry! It's bloody Fiction Alley Park. I've become addicted. I MUST STOP. And there was this whole thing with a *cough*small*cough* infatuation with a certain somebody, which basically ended up distracting me from typing anything more than three sentences per hour. Yell at me in a review, please, so I'll be all guilty and hopefully end up updating soon. Se you next chappie, folks! =)


	14. The Rain In Spain

A/N : *waves goodbye to the 200 reviews mark with stupid smile on face* Have I ever mentioned how much I love you guys?? Well, I do. Very, very, _very_ much. =) Thank you so much! Terima kasih, muchas gracias, grazie, arigato, xie xie, merci, danke – I am sorry I can't say thank you in everyone's language because I'm illiterate, but yes, you all get the picture. Right, will not leave you to wait for long – on with the chapter!

**Oliver's POV**

Chapter Fourteen : The Rain In Spain

Wands are supposed to work, right?

I mean, don't get me wrong, I know I can be stupid sometimes – but wands are supposed to _work_, right??

"Stand down, damned follicle!" I hollered and pointed the wand at the object of my frustration for the sixth time, to no avail. That stupid, _stupid stubborn strand of hair just continued standing up there, seemingly oblivious to my blatant attempts to get it to lie flat._

"Please, _please, just listen to him," David groaned from his bed, sleepily conjuring up a pair of earmuffs and clapping them onto his ears, then turning onto his stomach again._

You would think he was tired.

"I am your master; it is my head you currently stand upon, and as such I demand some respect from you! BOW DOWN, I say!"

"You know, you're lucky Katie isn't here right now, because if she was, you'd be out of a date this afternoon," Daniel commented, looking up from his nearly-finished Muggle Studies essay, which he was trying to finish up a week early. Xander, who was acting as Daniel's Make Sure I Don't Stop Writing Guy, rapped Daniel's head with a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet. "Oh, right," Daniel sighed and went back to his work.

I studied my reflection in the mirror, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought about many deep and important things.

Like, for example, why this stupid hair on my head refused to not stick up there like – like – like a stick bloody sticking up there.

I've never been good at similes.

"Oliver," Joshua said, tapping me on the shoulder, "Why don't you try using this?"

I looked down at the bottle he was offering me.

"Wet…Look…Hair Gel. Hair gel? What's hair gel?" I asked, looking up at Josh again.

"It's what I put in my hair every morning while you folk are still asleep. It's what reels in the ladies – and blokes, mate," Josh said, winking suggestively at me. I looked at Josh's hair and for the first time noticed that it was sticking up, defying gravity in an oddly fashionable way.

"But I don't really want to reel in blokes, I'm more of a ladies man myself…" I began, but quickly abandoned this thought upon looking at Josh's miffed expression. "So if I use…this…hair gel…thingamajig, I get hair like yours?" I asked quickly, holding up the bottle of hair gel to the sunlight streaming in from the window. I tried peering into the bottle to see whether there was anything alive in it – I mean, you never know with these Muggle contraptions.

"Absolutely," Josh winked, miffed expression a thing of the past. He gave me two thumbs up and strolled out of the room whistling happily, presumably heading to the Great Hall for a late breakfast.

Now, let me see. Wet Look Hair Gel.

I walked over to my bed and plopped down onto it, pondering this new unfolding mystery that I held in my hand. What do they mean by Wet Look, anyway? Josh's hair didn't Look very Wet to me; in fact it was more of a Stylishly Messy While Spiked Up Yet Strangely So Bisexual Look.

So why didn't they call this thing Stylishly Messy While Spiked Up Yet Strangely So Bisexual Look Hair Gel?

Muggles are so confusing.

"_Oh, shit!"_

I looked up from my extensive study of the bottle of hair gel to see David and Xander sprawled together in a heap on the ground, and Daniel staring at his essay in apparent horror.

"I'm late, I'm late!" David yelled and pushed Xander off of him, jumped to his feet and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door.

"_You've destroyed fifteen inches of my essay!"_

"_You've destroyed fifteen inches of his essay!"_

"Sorry!" David bellowed from inside of the bathroom. We heard the shower being turned on, and after a split second there was a second "_Oh, shit!" and then a softer "Ow…"_

"And after I spent so much time bonking you on the head with this," Xander said sadly, shaking his head. Then he shrugged and skipped out of the room.

I swear I could hear him singing, "Off to find Elaine with my super pimp ca – oh, good morning, Professor McGonagall – uh, the rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain…"

A second later, McGonagall's magically-amplified voice rang out through Gryffindor Tower, "_All students who are going to Hogsmeade, please assemble at the Entrance Hall immediately."_

I jumped off the bed and ran to the mirror again. Argh, my hair…

There was another curse from David – my guess was that he had slipped on the bar of soap I had left lying there. Oops. Well, no time to worry about David now – it looked like I would have to apply the hair gel on my way downstairs.

"Well, I'll be on my way then, Dan!"

Daniel looked up at me, then turned back to his piece of ruined parchment sadly.

"My essay…"

I slipped the bottle of hair gel into the pocket of my robes as I rounded the last corner leading to the Entrance Hall, panting from the exertion of my run downstairs.

Making it from the Gryffindor fifth-year boys' dormitory down to the Entrance Hall in three point five minutes is not an easy task.

Now I know.

I only hoped my hair looked alright, because I had applied the gel while running down the stairs without a mirror whatsoever – but there was no time to worry about that now because I had to look for my sweetiecutiemuffinpiesaywhat?

"Katie! Katie!" I yelled, spotting her through the growing throng of students who were making their way out of the doors.

I heard a few fourth-year Slytherins snicker as I ran past them to catch up with Katie, who was nearly at the door. But Slytherins always snicker, so I ignored them. Then I heard some Ravenclaws laughing and my name being mentioned, and I slowed my pace down just a little bit. Ravenclaws don't normally snicker, do they?

"Er, Katie! Wait for me!" I shouted again, but she still hadn't heard me.

This time, a huge group of Gryffindors burst into laughter upon looking at me and I felt a twinge of annoyance. _What the hell is so funny if I'm trying to catch up with someone I'm madly in like with, for Merlin's sake? You're supposed to be from my house, you bloody ponces, this is a betrayal of house loyalty, this is –_

Severely screwed up, apparently.

Because I was currently standing right behind Katie and had been about to tap her on the shoulder when a Hufflepuff girl right next to her burst into a fit of giggles when she saw me.

If a Hufflepuff ridicules you, something is not right in the world.

Okay, shit, I have to get out of here and back to the dormitory _now, before – _

"What's so funny, Sheryl?" Katie asked, turning to look at the giggling Hufflepuff, who only pointed at me.

She turned around.

A giant purple elephant dropped from the sky and landed on me, sending me straight into the ground, past the earth's core and shooting straight out into outer space, where I proceeded to have tea with the moon.

Okay, so I'm exaggerating.

But that elephant _should_ have happened.

"Oliver?" she said, stunned.

"Yes?" I squeaked.

Yes.

_Squeaked.___

"What the bloody hell did you do to your hair?!" she blurted out in shock, eyes wide as Quaffles.

Wait, they're laughing because of my…

"_JOSHUA HARPER!!!_"

"Yes?"

I spun around to see him staring at my hair with an incredulous expression on his face. "By the way, what did you do to your hair? I mean, seriously, mate, have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately? Were you even _looking in a mirror when you applied all that gunk?"_

Glare.

"Ah. Apparently not. Well, then, Katie, why don't you just wait here while I sort out Oliver's hair for him, shall I? Come hither, we go…" he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me in the direction of the marble staircase once more.

I heard Katie groan loudly as we made our way away from her.

Oh, the deadness of Mr Harper.

We stumbled back into the dormitory after receiving many odd glances and I rushed to the mirror immediately.

"GAAAAAAAAAHH!"

_Shock!_

_Horror!_

_Despair!_

"_Accio hair gel!_" Josh commanded; his bottle of gel zoomed out of my pocket and landed neatly in his open palm. "Now you see, Oliver," he explained patiently, walking towards me, "the drenched Albert Einstein look doesn't necessarily work for everybody."

As I was still struck by the TERROR that was my hair, I only managed a silent nod.

Please don't make me describe my hair to you. PLEASE don't. It was only too horrific to contemplate, and I managed to tear my eyes away from my reflection before my eyesight just plain ceased to exist.

"Well then. Enough with this ridiculous kerfuffle – _hidroculus_!"

Before I could let out a single word of protest, an equivalent of a giant bucket of ice-cold water splashed down onto me, flattening my hair completely and leaving me soaking wet.

Oh, and very, very cold.

"You _idiot_!" I cursed through shivering teeth, pulling out my wand and saying, "_Gammus_ solarum!_" A strong wave of heat began to emanate from my wand and I held it over my hair, my wand acting sort of like that Muggle contraption – what's it called – a _hair-dryer_. Of all the names in the world, they had to pick 'hair-dryer'. How unimaginative can these Muggles get? It's sort of like calling a toad – Toad, you know? Hello, Toad! How are you, Toad? You're looking particularly disgusting today, Toad – _

"Liverboy?"

Josh was waving his hand in front of my eyes repeatedly. "Cat got your liver, Liverboy?"

I blinked, yanking my mind away from thoughts of toads that were rapidly mutating into Katie's face, "Huh? What is it? Is something wrong?"

Josh gave me a strange look. "No, not really, it's just that, well, your hair's starting to burn and all, I thought you might like to know…"

"Whaaat??? _Shit!" I cursed, realizing that smoke was beginning to rise from a few tendrils of my hair. I threw my wand halfway across the room, yelling, "_Finite incantatem!_" as Josh let pour another stream of cold water from his wand onto my head. My hair hissed as the water touched it. I merely shivered, and then sighed._

"That's it, Josh. I'm not going."

And I plopped down onto the floor.  
"Excuse me?" Josh demanded.

"I'm not going. Obviously, God is trying to send me a sign that Katie and I are not meant to be, and therefore I shall not go against fate by going to Hogsmeade with her. Ergo, I stay."

"Ergo you ditch the woman you're madly in love with, more like it!"

I sat up immediately. "Hey, I never said I was 'madly in love' with anyone, thank you very much –"

"That's beside the point," Josh said, waving his hand as if shooing off a fly impatiently. "Look, I'm bisexual – even though I tend to lean more for guys, myself – and even _I _can see how much of a catch Katie is! Use your brains, Liverboy! Katie Bell is _not somebody you want to ditch. Besides, did you see what she did to that Flint guy? You don't wand to end up all bready like him, do you?"_

I sighed. Merlin, does he have to do this to me _all the time_?

"Fine, fine, I'm going – but my hair –" I said, gesturing helplessly at the train wreck on my head.

With a wave of his wand, my hair was suddenly transformed into…into, well – a perfect epitome of the Stylishly Messy While Spiked Up Yet Strangely So Bisexual Look. Except, you know, not so much with the Strangely So Bisexual part. I have a theory that that part doesn't have to do with the way your hair is styled, but more with the person whose hair it is…

Hey, just a theory.

"Hold on – if you could have done that all this time, why on earth did you give me that tube of Wet Look Hair Gel for?" I spluttered indignantly, the realization of this suddenly hitting me.

"Because I prefer to use the hair gel, that's all," he shrugged. "It gives my hair a much more _natural_ look, in my opinion…"

I rolled my eyes. There was no more time to be angry at Josh, because I had already kept Katie waiting for ten minutes.

And as we all know…Katie gets pissed.

"Your hair, I ask you, your _hair_…"

If you guessed that I'd just told her my reason for taking so long, you'd be right.

"I mean, I do realize your hair kind of sucked – no offense or anything – but still, I wouldn't have cared, would I? And did you see the look on McGonagall's face when we had to ask her to get out her clipboard again to check our names off? I swear, I thought she was going to spontaneously combust or something… Since when do you care about your hair, anyway? You've always been quite the fashion victim, why do you suddenly care so much about how you look now?"

I'm not sure whether I should take all that as sincere confusion or a bloody insult.

"Well, I dunno…" I said and shrugged. I waved to Xander who was on the other side of Hogsmeade's main street; he looked like he was trying to get a mightily pissed off Elaine to look at him. "I guess I just…you know, wanted to look nice for you."

Katie paused for a while before replying with a soft thanks, her eyes never meeting mine.

"So, uh, where do you want to go first? Zonko's? Honeydukes? Mygrandmother'shousetheShriekingShack? The Leaky Cauldron?"

"Oh, your grandmother! I almost forgot that she lived here! Come on, Oliver, let's go see her before it gets too late, she always bakes AMAZING Cauldron Cakes…" Katie insisted, tugging on my arm.

"Well, I'm not so sure whether that's such a good idea…" I said, pulling just as forcefully in the other direction.

"Oliver," Katie said, pulling as hard as she could on the sleeve of my robe.

"Get off me, Katie," I said firmly back to her, not giving way.

There was _no way _we were going to my grandmother's house. I had made the mistake of inviting Katie over there back in our third year, and Katie and Grandma Puddifoot had hit it off so well that Katie now insisted on seeing her every time we came into Hogsmeade.

Don't get me wrong, it was nice at first, you know, the whole friends-getting-to-know-your-relatives thing is fine with me…that is, until Grandma Puddifoot started showing Katie my baby pictures.

My _naked _baby pictures.

My naked baby pictures of me posing in my mother's old furry mink coat.

In pink heels.

So you see, Katie wasn't really exaggerating when she said I've always been quite the fashion victim.

"_Get – off – it – Oliver –" Katie grunted, adding even more force now. "_I – want – some – Cauldron – Cakes_!"_

"We'll go to Honeydukes, I'll buy you your bloody Cauldron Cakes there," I whined, trying not to fall over as Katie gave one last massive tug.

"Go!"

"No!"

"Go!"

"No!"

"_Go!"_

"_No!"_

"Children?"

"GRANDMA!"

It was my worst nightmare.

My maternal grandmother, Madam Loretta Puddifoot, dressed in her usual pink robes and her hair tied up into a bun, was standing there in all her stoutness, watching Katie and I with a mildly amused look on her face.

"Oh, grandma, it's great to see you again!" Katie gushed, and immediately ran over to my grandmother and embraced her.

"Oh, child, it's lovely to see you again too – oh, how tall you've grown since the last time I saw you!" Grandma gushed back, then turned her attention to me. "And Oliver! Oh, cookie, come here and give your grandmother a nice, big glompalicious _hug!"_

Without warning, she rushed forward and grabbed me in a tight hug.

She may be short and stout and sixty-five years old, but she can _move._

"Um, it's – nice – to see you too, grandma," I said, smiling a little transparently.

"Oh, come now, children, off to my place, I'll make both of you a spot of tea! And I've just baked a fresh batch of Cauldron Cakes…" Grandma sang and clutched Katie's hand. Together, they marched off down the side road I knew led to my grandmother's home-cum-tea-shop.

I sighed.

That side road looked so innocent…little did everyone around me know that it led to my _hell._

A/N : Whoo-hoo! I've done it! ::congratulates self:: Hehe. Okay. Well, Katie and Oliver's entire Hogsmeade visit was supposed to be in this chapter, but then things got drawn out a little and I figured I might as well split it into two chapters. So the Madam Puddifoot saga shall be continued in Chapter Fifteen. =) Oh, and don't ask me how I got the idea to make Madam Puddifoot Oliver's grandmother, because I have absolutely no idea. Yikes – I certainly hope all of you have read OotP. I would hate to have spoilt anything for you… Right, must go now. Please review and tell me what you thought, give me suggestions on what's to come, flame the hell out of me or just plain ramble! I love hearing from y'all! 'Till next time!


	15. The Many Names Of Oliver Wood

A/N : Yo ho and a bottle of rum! Now, kids, if you haven't watched Pirates Of The Carribean yet – _Go. I command you to. Now. Orlando Bloom goodness. =) Before I forget, a thanks to BlueEyedWildMage for pointing out to me that Oliver has been added to the FFN fiction character list. Whoo-hoo! A big howdy to all the new reviewers; thank you for being so kind with your reviews (this goes for everyone else, too)! Well now. Let's go see what Madam Puddifoot has in store for our dear Liverboy…_

Chapter Fifteen : The Many Names Of Oliver Wood

Cookie. _n._1. A small sweet biscuit.  
                2. A plain bun.  
                3. Madam Loretta Puddifoot's favourite nickname for her grandson, Oliver Fransisco Wood, closely followed by the terms 'poppet', and 'big boy'.

"_Cooooooooooookie!" _Grandma sang – no, _yodeled ­_– back to me, her hand resting on The Doorknob Of Doom.

"Er…_coming, grandma!_"

I was so tempted to yodel.

I was just _so tempted to yodel._

I tell you, I was THAT CLOSE.

"Hurry up, cookie," Katie giggled, and Grandma gave Katie's hand a tender squeeze before turning her wrist and leading the two of them into her tea shop, which appeared to have been closed up for the day.

Okay. Take a deep breath, Oliver. It's really not that bad!

"Now, poppet, if you don't hurry along, your little friend will finish all the yummy Cauldron Cakes!" Grandma said brightly, popping her head through the doorway to look at me. "Come on, cookie!" she beckoned.

I tried to smile and slowly walked over to her; the second I was within clutching grasp she did just that – clutched me – and pulled me into her dangerously hot pink tea shop, closing the door behind us. Katie was already seated at one of the small circular tables, gobbling down the remains of a freshly-baked Cauldron Cake ravenously.

"Hey, Orli, come join me!" she mumbled through her cake-stuffed mouth, making wild hand motions with her right arm which I assumed were either a swear word in an obscure alien sign language or her asking me to come sit with her and Enjoy Some Cauldron Cakes.

I'm going with the latter.

I gingerly made my way over to Katie and sat down, avoiding stepping on Grandma's pet cat's tail in the process. Mr Squiggles gave me a dirty look before rising to his feet – er, paws – and trotting over to the other side of the room where he could sleep in peace.

Grandma pulled up another chair to our table and plopped herself down on it with a huge smile on her face. The Face Of Evil…dun dun dun!

"Now, poppet, hurry up and eat your cakes while they're still fresh from the oven – that's right, cookie!" she said happily, reaching her hand out for a cake and stuffing it into my mouth when I made no move towards the cakes whatsoever. "Yummy, isn't it?" she asked delightedly.

"Yes'm," Katie mumbled.

"Yesh, it ish," I managed to choke through the crumbs in my mouth. _At least it was the first ten times you baked them for me!_

Then my conscience seemed to decide that that moment was about the right time to start kicking into action. _Now, now, Oliver, it seemed to say. __You know she's only doing this because she loves you, and also cares very much for your friend Katie. All this is merely done out of the goodness of her heart, and therefore you should be grateful! You won't have her around for very long, you know. So treasure her presence while you still can, and – oh, shit. She's getting the pictures out. Ciao, little man, I'll see you on the other side…_

"Oh, great, pictures!" Katie exclaimed, straightening up. She had finally finished her fifth Cauldron Cake and was now looking quite pleased with herself. "Do you have any new ones, grandma?"

No, Merlin, please no, please no, please no…

"Now that you mention it, dear girl, yes, I do! Oliver's parents sent me some new photographs last weekend that they had just gotten developed! They're of poppet over there and his younger sister Jennifer during the summer holidays! Come have a look, dear…" Grandma said enthusiastically, waving her wand and summoning two huge photograph albums from a cupboard that was a pale shade of pink.

Dammit.

Last summer holidays…where did I go again?

"Merlin's BEARD, is that a _Speedo you're wearing, Orli?!"_

Oh, shit.

Bora Bora.

I have been sitting here for the past hour listening to the girl of my dreams and my maternal grandmother laughing over waving pictures of me in a Speedo, sipping iced tea out of a glass with a pink umbrella in Bora Bora.

A lesser wizard would be dead by now.

"Look, er – _excuse me, hello _–" "Hi, Speedo Ma –" "IF you don't mind, grandma, I'll just take my leave for a second and go use your bathroom."

"Oh, of course, cookie – you do remember how to use the bathroom nicely, don't you? And remember, _always leave the toilet seat down again because I'm a lady and as you know, ladies need the toilet seat down –"_

"_Yes, grandma!_"

"Bye, Speedo Man!"

The second I had stepped out of that stiflingly hot room, I sank to the floor, exhausted. I was now in the bright pink stairwell that led to grandma's small apartment upstairs. She lived here alone with Mr Squiggles, who had his own pink basket to sleep in in grandma's bedroom. But this stairwell was now more than Just A Stairwell – it was My Refuge, my Place To Hide From Loretta Puddifoot.

Now if I could just manage to stay out here until half past three…

"Katie, dear, do you mind if we stop looking at photographs for a while…while Oliver's still gone?" I suddenly heard Grandma's voice said, carrying out into the stairwell.

I closed my eyes and moaned inwardly. What the devil was she going to do now, just to humiliate me even further?

"Sure, grandma – what's on your mind?" Katie asked, and I could hear the thud of the heavy photo album she was looking at being shut.

"Well, dear, you see, it's – I'm not so sure whether I should be telling you this but it's – it's…"

Gee. Let me think.

"It's Oliver, sweetheart."

Three points, we have a winner! Ding ding ding!

"Oliver?" I could practically see Katie's brow furrowing; her biting her lip like she always does when she's worried about something, whether she realizes it or not.

"What about Oliver? Is it about him not wanting to eat his Cauldron Cakes? Because if that's it, he's just not feeling very hungry today, that's all," Katie continued.

"Oh, no, dear, it's not that. I was just wondering…you see, I was just wondering whether there are any – feelings – of any sort between the two of you."

There was silence.

I had a heart attack and died.

"Dear?" Grandma prodded kindly.

"Why – why are you asking me this all of a sudden?" Katie asked in a strangled sort of voice.

Yes, grandma, why the heck are you asking her this all of a sudden? My heart can't take this sort of emotional trauma any more! I'm going to _sue!_

"Well," Grandma began, hesitating slightly, "ever since Oliver brought you to see me when you were both thirteen, I thought that maybe – maybe there was some hope for him, after all. But now you're both getting so big and graduating, and you both seem so close – but why is it that you've never been attracted to my grandson?"

Oh, Merlin, no – hey, wait a minute. Yes! Why _is it that you've never been attracted to me?_

"Is it because there's something wrong with him?"

Yeah, is it?

"Did he ever do anything wrong to you?"

Absolutely never! Not even once!

"Why won't you give Oliver a chance?"

YEAH!

"I understand if you think he's a – well – a gay, dear, because I thought so too for the first thirteen years of his life, but that's when he brought you over and we all thought he still had hope!"

YE – huh?

"Oh. Well, he's not gay, grandma. But trust me, I know the feeling…" Katie finally spoke up again, laughing slightly.

"So…why, dearie? You're the nicest girl of Oliver's age that I've ever known, and Merlin knows there's no one I want more as a daughter-in-law than you… Just satisfy an old lady's curiosity, Katie – why?"

There was silence again, but this time grandma didn't push Katie to answer.

I strained my ears, trying to pick up every single word they were saying. I couldn't afford to miss out now…

"I…I…" Katie began, and I inched even closer towards the door. When suddenly…

"_MEOW!_"

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN – YOU STUPID CAT!" I bellowed, jumping to my feet as Mr Squiggles launched himself at my face. I stumbled through the door, a tiny part of my mind wondering whether they had realized that I had been eavesdropping.

"Squiggly, get off Oliver this instant or you won't be getting any dinner today!" Grandma immediately commanded, getting up from her seat; Mr Squiggles immediately let go off my face and skulked away, still scowling at me. I snuck a glance at Katie, whose face appeared very flushed; she was looking at me and blushed when I made eye contact with her.

"Er," I said, clearing my throat nervously, "sorry about that. I was coming back from – the bathroom, you know, and that cat of yours mistook me for catnip, I imagine… Let's all just sit down again and pretend that never happened, shall we?"

I was about to make my ay over to them and sit down again when Katie jumped up. "Er, actually, Oliver, I'm not feeling very well…would you mind very much if I went back to Hogwarts…alone?"

She didn't even give me a chance to reply; instead, she pecked grandma lightly on the cheek, flashed me a quick smile, and then was out the door with a yelled, "Thanks!"

Grandma and I stared after her for a second, then turned back to look at each other.

"Why did she leave like that? Isn't she feeling well?" I asked innocently.

Grandma gave me a long, hard look before replying.

"I suspect, cookie, that she is indeed sick…and in fact, her condition is quite serious. I suggest you let her have some time to herself for now. Goodbye, cookie, come and visit another time, won't you?" she said and gave me a tight hug. We walked to the door together and I was about to set off for the Leaky Cauldron when she called my name.

"Yes, grandma, did I forget something?" I asked, turning around.

Grandma sighed.

"Just a reminder, dear : leave Katie alone for the time being, the poor girl. You see, poppet, she's come down with a very bad love bug and is quite lovesick at the moment – and I think it may be more serious than you or I could ever imagine."

And she closed the door.

A/N : Yay, another chapter over! So, how did I write it? Was it good? Bad? Please tell me! I once again would like to apologize for the long time I'm taking to update nowadays, and I swear to you that once my finals are over (October 10th) the updates will keep comin' as fast as I can write them without actually spoiling the story! Harry Potter fan's honour. =) And yes, I do realize this was a short chapter. I'm sorry, but I was so happy with what Grandma Puddifoot said to Oliver that I decided to just end it there. Besides, there's nothing much more that I can write for this chapter, really. Anyway, as a special treat – the next chapter will have BOTH Katie and Oliver's point of views! If I, you know, update within this century. I promise that you will have an up-close-and-personal look at both their homes and families. Also on a Harry Potter fan's honour. Peace out, guys.


	16. There Is A Wizard Awaiting You

A/N : Well, everyone knows what my first words are gonna be. EXAMS ARE OVER! EXAMS ARE OVER! EXAMS ARE OVER!!! ::does LetUsRejoiceForExamsAreOver dance:: -_-' Gee. I've been hanging out at FictionAlley Park too much. Anyway, rejoice, for KATIE'S BACK! Hehe, I know loads of you preferred Katie's point of view so as I promised in Chapter Fifteen, this chapter will have both Katie and Oliver's POVs. I find it a bit harder to write Oliver's POV as well, but sometimes it's just gotta be done for the sake of the storyline, otherwise things wouldn't work out. I certainly hope Oliver's POV isn't too bad, though. ANYWAY. _Forward march!_

**Oliver's POV**

Chapter Sixteen : There Is A Wizard Awaiting You

You know, Katie's been acting really weird lately. She's constantly flushed whenever I see her, her eyes can't maintain eye contact with me like they used to, and she seems to have developed the nervous habit of biting her fingernails.

I wonder why.

Maybe she really _is _sick like Grandma said she was. What did Grandma say she was suffering from?

Jeez, I can't even remember.

I think it was one of those exotic diseases that you can only get in tropical rainforests, though. Sort of like malaria, or Japanese Encephalitis, or the yellow-bellied-jabberwocky-lymph-node-coagulating-very-scarlet-fever.

Mental note: Politely enquire Katie whether she has been to any tropical rainforests lately.

I tried to keep this mental note in mind during our last tutoring session before the Christmas holidays began. "Hey, uh, Katie?" I asked, looking up from the short test she had set me on the Centaurian Revolt of 1400.

A hot blush crept over her cheeks as she jumped slightly. "Uh, yeah?" she responded, obviously shaken.

"Well…not to be rude or anything, but…have you visited any tropical rainforests in your recent memory?"

Katie paused for a second to register this.

"Excuse me?" she finally said, dumbfounded.

"You know, tropical rainforests. Like the Amazon, or that Orinoco place…" I explained slowly, hoping she wouldn't notice that I was inching myself away slightly just in case she was contagious.

"_What_ the – look, stop asking me these ridiculous questions and get back to your test!" she exclaimed, crossed her arms and looked away.

And that was the end of that.

I managed to get a chance to talk to her two best friends, Angelina and Adelene, the day before school let out.

"She's avoiding us nowadays, too," Angelina told me. "We're letting her have some time to herself, because, you know, we're all with the unselfishness and things…"

"Actually, we just don't want to wake up the next morning covered in strawberry jam…she's getting pretty good at that…" Adelene interrupted.

"But the point IS," Angelina continued, pointedly ignoring her friend, "that we all agree that something's going on with her. I don't know any more about it than you do, Orli – actually, I was hoping you might know more than I do – so all we can do is wait and hope she'll be back to normal soon." She sighed. "You never realize how insane she really is until she's just not there being insane any more."

"You know, I never thought I'd ever hear myself saying this, but – well – maybe you should just give up on her, Oliver. Honestly, we all thought she'd come around sooner or later, but – but – she's being so _stupid! Maybe she's just not cut out for this love thing. Merlin only knows what's going on inside that head of hers…" Adelene shook her head._

I was still thinking about this in the Hogwarts Express the next day. I was sharing a compartment with Xander, Joshua, Daniel and David, all of whom were singing The Wizard Song at the top of their lungs.

"_Down the fairytale pa-ath…there is a wizard awaiting you…_" Xander crowed, spinning round in a style reminiscent of Peeves on drugs, while the rest of the guys laughed their heads off.

I tried to drown out their laughter and singing, focusing my thoughts on Katie. Was Adelene right? Should I give up on Katie? She quite clearly doesn't feel the same way about me like I do about her – but it's not like this is anything new. I didn't give up a few months ago, so why should I do so now?

_Maybe because you're wasting your time…wasting your emotions…wasting your –_

"_-wizard hats, too…_"

I looked up, momentarily distracted by the sight of Daniel dancing with his pointed hat that he had temporarily enchanted.

I jumped as a deep, booming voice resonated, "_Send me your power…with the lightning in your eyes…" in my ear, to see Joshua grinning widely._

After a few more minutes of hearing them sing about waving wands "up and down, round and round", I began to doubt their sexuality.

When they began singing about making magic in "illuminate fashion", I felt like committing suicide then and there.

"_Yeah, yeah, yeah…_" they all finally crooned throatily, not unlike one of those Muggle boy bands, and proceeded to dissolve into fits of laughter.

"Come on, lighten up, Liverboy," David cajoled once he had laughed himself silly. "It's the holidays! It's Christmas! It's time away from Snape! What's not to be happy about? _Ow!_" he yelled as he received a whack on the head from Daniel.

"You idiot, he's obviously upset about Katie Bell!" Daniel said, rolling his eyes and plopping down next to me. "Isn't that right, Liverboy?"

I shrugged, not willing to sacrifice my ultimate manliness just yet.

"Well, whatever it is, David's right. Cheer up, for Merlin's sake! Look, it's the holidays, and you're going to end up depressing everyone if you go on like this. If she's that important to you, why don't you just go visit her before we get back to school? You have, what, two weeks?"

That's _it_!

I have seen the light!

Dublin, Ireland, here I come!

**Katie's POV**

I sighed as the Hogwarts Express finally pulled up to Platform 9 ¾.

Merlin, what was wrong with me? Hey, God? _I want my insanity back!!!_

Right about then, I spotted my family already waiting for me on the platform, and a grin immediately appeared on my face.

_Ooooh__, that's more like it…_

"Katie!" my younger sister, Aderyn, screamed when she saw me as I got off the train. "Hi, sweetie," I grinned right back, and gave her a huge hug. I straightened up again to be greeted with another hug from my elder brother Karé, who had apparently shot up while I was gone, and now stood at least a head taller than me.

"Evil," I glared at him, and he replied with a grin and affectionate hair tousle.

I turned to my parents next and hugged each of them in turn, feeling a rush of happiness at being back together with them again – and then the rush disappeared just as quickly as it had come when I spotted Oliver at the far end of the platform, greeting his parents and younger sister. I still couldn't figure out whether two weeks without Oliver was a good or bad thing.

"Hey, look, Kates – isn't that the guy who came over a couple years ago?" Karé suddenly asked, pointing at the very person I was staring at.

"What? Um…"

"I think it is…I tell you what, why don't you kids go talk to him while your mother and I go book a fireplace?" Dad suggested, placing a hand on my mother's shoulder.

"No, wait! Er, he isn't who you think he is! He's…Oliver's twin brother! Yes! Er, he's usually not allowed to get out of the house much, but this term he managed to – to – tie up Oliver and take his place at school! So, uh, he's going to go back home today and let Oliver out of the broom closet because he's not playing Quidditch very well and can't get along with the professors, and he's extremely unhappy because…because…" My voice trailed off when I realized they weren't buying it.

"Gee, he wouldn't happen to be really evil and bent on taking over the world, too, would he?" Karé asked sarcastically. "Mom, dad, I'm going to talk to him while Katie takes her daily medication."

With that, he stalked off to talk to his new best friend.

_Shit!_

I ran to catch up with Karé, hindered by parents greeting their beloved children and little children playing games all over the platform. I heard a snatch of The Wizard Song being sung somewhere by someone and sincerely prayed for them to be inflicted by a plague of locusts.

"Oliver!" I heard Karé say jovially, and immediately slowed down. I had lost the battle. Fricking Revolutionary War that was…

I watched as Oliver turned around, surprised, then as his lips turned up in a warm smile. I barely noticed my heart flutter, Aderyn arriving at my side, breathless from running…

In fact, everything around me seemed to drown out as I watched Oliver converse cheerfully with Karé. This seemed to be happening a lot lately, once I had come to terms with the fact that I was very much crushing on Oliver Fransisco Wood…

Yep – I admit it.

I like Oliver Wood.

I actually like Oliver Wood.

Who would have guessed it?

Please don't answer that.

It seems like everyone except me saw the signs. Those dreaded signs that I actually liked Oliver Wood. Oliver Wood! The idiot who goes around wearing kilts in his free time. The idiot who goes around knocking people off Quidditch stands. The idiot who used to be known as an Ice Monkey. The only guy in Hogwarts that had ever understood me and my wackiness in all of our seven years schooling there.

Lene and Angie will be impossible to live with after this.

Which reminded me…

I turned around, absent-mindedly taking hold of Aderyn's hand, eyes scanning the platform for my two friends – and it looked like God was on my side today, after all, because there they were, making their way over to me. Before they could say anything, I began to let the words fall out, not knowing what I was going to say but just going with the flow.

"Look, you guys, I know you're going to yell at me, and I know you've come here to tell me how horrible my hair looks today – more horrible than usual, that is – but I just want to tell you how sorry I am. I know I've been sort of avoiding you, but I've just been feeling really confused ever since you guys pulled off that stunt in the Great Hall, and I'm over that now. I'm sorry…I really am. And I swear that after this I'll try to be the bestest friend you guys will ever, ever have – just please please please please please give me a chance to make it up to you?"

And I turned and walked away, dragging an extremely perplexed Aderyn along with me.

I think it's common knowledge that I've never been very good at apologizing.

I had walked almost the entire length of the platform, Aderyn whining her head off, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around, expecting to see the grim reaper himself standing before me – but it was none other than Angelina and Lene.

I bit my lip and closed my eyes, cringing.

"Hey."

I opened them again.

"Don't worry. Your hair looks fine," Lene said seriously.

This registered.

And the three of us collapsed into each other's arms, laughing and crying at the same time.

This continued for a while until Aderyn finally started singing The Wizard Song which she had picked up from whoever was singing it earlier, upon which I had to promise to buy her a lollipop later on in order to shut her up.

"Hi, Lene," Aderyn said shyly, waving.

"Hi, Renie," Lene replied, grinning at her.

"Hey! How about me?" Angelina said, miffed. "Just because you're named after someone, everyone else just, like, dies…"

I couldn't stop myself from grinning as I watched everything go back to normal. Maybe this holiday wouldn't be so bad after all…I noticed Karé walking over to us and spun around, ready to tell him how much I loved him and how particularly lovely he looked that day.

"Hey, girls, let's go! Oh, Kates, guess what? Your friend Oliver's going to visit during the holidays! Isn't that great?" he said cheerfully.

…

"What the _f…?_"

A/N : Yay! Oh, I'm so proud of myself… Hehe. I think I may have forgotten how to write Katie, so please tell me how I'm doing. Yes, that means you, that means review, that means please please please review this chapter! I've had two plot bunnies during all this time, one's a primarily humor fic which should turn out even sillier than this one, and the other is an adventure fic which I think will be a challenge for me to write. I don't know whether I actually will undertake those two projects, but since this will have to finish sometime…well, we'll see. Ah, yes, nearly forgot – credit for The Wizard Song goes to the lovely Linkin Park (Chaz, you sing this song like no other. Amen.)! Oh, before I go, I just have to squee about the fact that I ACTUALLY MET LINKIN PARK!!! ::scream:: I'm sorry, but they performed here and my friend and I were at their hotel…one thing led to another…and now I'M HAVING MIKE SHINODA'S BABY! _Mike's Wife : In your dreams! Me : Yes, there too. … Okay. I'll stop. So maybe I was exaggerating about that last tiny little bit. But, hey, details, details, right? Who pays attention to details anyway? ::closes eyes and covers ears:: Ho hum…_


	17. CONTAGIOUS!

A/N: Hey there! Right, sorry, I just have to ask leanah: what the hell is a marmot?! Phew. Thank you, I'm done. Oh, and I just have to credit Flying Snow from FictionAlley Park for this because reading her lovely Lifesavers fic was the main thing that inspired me to GET OFF MY BUTT AND GET TO WORK. So, er, yeah – thanks. And yes – Bewitching Brendas ARE the wizarding world's equivalent of Barbie. Enough said.

**Katie's POV**

Chapter Seventeen: CONTAGIOUS!!!

You wouldn't think it was possible for a teenage wizard to be able to spout out eight legible words per second and still be able to breathe normally at the end of every sentence.

You wouldn't THINK it was possible.

You really wouldn't.

At least, I never did.

Until Michael Charles Bennington came to visit my house this Christmas.

WellyouknowKatieskydivingisreallynotallthatbadbutIsupposeconsideringyourpastexperiencewithsportsitmaynotbeallthatgreatforyouandyouknowwhattheysayifatfirstyoudonotsucceedskydivingreallyisnotforyoubutthenagainyoudoplayQuidditchsotherecouldbearayoflightforyoutherewouldyoulikemetoSHUT THE HELL UP!!!!!

Well, that's not what I said exactly.

What I said was more along the lines of, "That's very nice of you, Mike." Cue brilliant smile. "Why, that sounds fascinating!" Nod of acknowledgement. "That must have been quite an experience." Look of intense interest. "I never thought that was possible!" Repeat until so sick of smiling that all you want to do is beat that annoying extreme sports freak to a pulp with a very large, very ripe watermelon.

Unfortunately, I can't do anything to Mike because he's an 'old family friend'.

You know.

One of THOSE people.

I never minded him when we were younger. That's because whenever I met him, he was usually very badly injured from some sort of sports accident, ergo could never actually say anything much. All he could do was smile and nod – sometimes not nod, if the injury involved his neck – as I happily showed him my amazing, fantabulous Bewitching Brenda collection. Then as he got older and gradually learned the meaning of "DANGER: DO NOT PULL", the injuries grew less and less, and the talking grew more and more.

Oh, how I long for the days of my Brendas.

This Christmas wasn't any different. I could tell he really was trying to be nice and all – I could also tell that he still hadn't given up on his long-time crush on me – but, I mean, honestly – did he _have to prove his love to me by reasoning my chances of success at skydiving to himself out loud, 'loud' being the key word here?_

Quick, someone hand me a watermelon.

"Uh – Katie? Hello?" Mike's voice suddenly said, and I suddenly realized that his giant hand was waving to and fro directly in front of my eyes.

"Oh! Er...yes?" I said, jerking upright from the slouch I realized I had unconsciously been in.

Mike frowned slightly. "You know, if you don't want to hear about skydiving, you can just say so…"

Relief flooded through me – an escape route! – and I sighed, about to thank him for his thoughtful consideration, when –

"…but I know how much you love the idea of skydiving, so I've got an even MORE interesting suggestion for you!" he continued eagerly, reminding me very much of an over-excited puppy. "Have you ever considered the prospects skydiving off a plane on a Muggle bicycle would offer you?"

Have you ever considered the prospects shutting the hell up and leaving me alone would offer you?

"Muggles do it all the time and _they_ never get killed, so I think the chances of us wizards getting killed are very slim, aren't they?"

Moan.

From the far side of our living room, Karé looked up from his newspaper with a bemused and slightly irritated look on his face.

"Mike, I don't think my sister is much of the…'extreme sports' type."

"Hello? Just in case you haven't noticed, _brother, I play a sport that involves flying around fifty feet in the air, trying to score goals with a big fat heavy red __blob and at the same time trying to avoid being __creamed by two gigantic constantly PMSing _jackasses_ of balls! If that isn't an extreme sport, then what the hell __is?" I snapped, not exactly knowing why I was taking offense to his comment._

He gave me a Look that very much reminded me of a certain Quidditch player who had been occupying most of my thoughts during the past week, and said slowly, "Well, then, I guess you really _don't mind Mike's _utterly fantastic_ idea of skydiving on a bike, now do you?"_

"Of course she doesn't!" Mike chirped cheerfully, and with a sinking feeling I realized that Karé has gotten me out of Mike's immensely boring talk and I had stepped right into it all over again.

Sort of like when you jump out of a puddle of muddy water only to step into a huge pile of –

"SHIT, WHAT THE HELL IS _THAT?!_"

Karé and I jumped out of our seats, wildly turning to look at Mike who was pointing directly out of our front window into the garden, looking deathly pale.

What is it?

_Has the Grim Reaper come for me_ because I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE!!!

"A bird! A giant bird!" Mike cried.

…

Let's pretend I never said anything.

"A big, big, bigbigbigbig _bird!!!_" Mike yelled, and backed away from the window so fast he tripped over his own feet, landing sprawled on the floor. He had barely lain there five seconds before there was a knock on the door and he scrambled up with a wild cry, grabbed my right hand and pulled me after him as he ran through the many hallways of my house and finally out the back door. And he didn't stop there. As he continued to run, dragging me along behind him like I was some sort of paper doll, I began to entertain the thought that maybe, just _maybe…Mr Extreme Sports Freak had a phobia of birds._

Birds.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

For some reason, I just imagined Mike tottering.

Does that even make sense?

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Okay.

Momentary bout of insanity gone.

I think it was the rushing wind and the fact that Mike was actually making physical contact with me and all. Now, however, we had finally drawn to a stop right outside the local pharmacy, and we both sank to the pavement, gasping for breath – him because he was tired, me because I couldn't stop laughing. Luckily, I don't think he noticed.

When we both had finally gotten out breaths back (_birds – BWAHAHA) , Mike turned me to and apologized, "I'm sorry about that, Katie, but I just have this huge fear of birds…"_

I turned away, stuffing my fist into my mouth to keep from laughing.

"It's kind of strange, I know, but they're just so feathery and pecky…"

He is making this rather hard for me.

"Look, Mike," I finally managed to say – in my mind he was already transforming into a huge giant, yellow bird right before my very eyes – "let's, uh – let's go get some Paracetamol!"

And it was my turn to drag him into the pharmacy, for no apparent reason at all other than to get some relief for my imaginary aching headache, which was the excuse I had thought up in a grand total of two point three eight four nine seconds, rounded off to two point three eight five seconds whoo-hoo I can do Math!

As I half-heartedly browsed the shelves of the pharmacy for the familiar sight of a box labeled PANADOL, I became uncomfortably aware of the fact that Mike hadn't taken his eyes off of me ever since we had walked into the pharmacy.

Truth be told, he was making me kind of nervous.

Truth be told, I really needed a watermelon.

When I finally couldn't stand it any longer, I turned to him desperately and exclaimed, "Look, I'm sorry you feel your masculinity has been threatened by the fact that you have finally admitted to a mere teenage witch that you are suffering from bird-o-phobia, but I can assure you that I'm really not going to rub it in your face or any other significant place because I was brought up very well and my parents were – are – kind, polite, well-mannered citizens of the grand emerald isle of Ireland!"

His face turned so red that for a second I seriously contemplated the possibility that I had maybe somehow passed my lobster genes onto him – but then I realized I was being stupid, because genes just weren't conjunctive.

Consistent.

Confusion.

Contingent.

Con–

Con–

Ah, forget it.

Mike's voice saying, "Katie, I have to tell you something," brought me back to my senses. My senses told me that both his hands had my shoulders in a death grip. My senses told me that he was sweating more than a teenage wizard should ever be sweating in an air-conditioned pharmacy. My senses told me that his face was only a few inches away from mine.

"…_Katie?_"

My senses told me that Oliver Wood was staring right at Mike and I as Mike leaned forward and kissed me.

A/N: Oh my God! *stares at sentence she has just written* It's…it's a cliffhanger!! And I didn't even mean to write one! Oh, wunderbar! *hugs nearest watermelon* *watermelon gives her dirty look and slinks off* O_O Okay. I am so so so so so sorry about the late update. I know. Oh God. I am saying this way too much lately. Blame Linkin Park. No, really. I have gotten way more obsessed with them than any healthy person should be. Well, actually, I've just been way too obsessed with the Linkin Park Underground message board. So yeah. o_O Just a note for you guys: my MSN Messenger e-mail address IS vanillayLang@hotmail.com, however if you would like to e-mail me, please do so at cookiesncream@linkinpark.com because that just makes things a whole lot easier for everyone. =) I love you guys. Really. Now go and review before I send the watermelon after you.


	18. Life Has Gone To The Frogs

A/N: PhoenixReborn29! You're my soulmate, I swear! Harry Potter_ and _Linkin Park!_ Thank you all for the lovely, lovely reviews. I wasn't sure if anyone would still read my story after such a long gap between the last two chapters – but you did! – so thanks a whole lot anyway. This chapter is dedicated to all those wonderful people who actually stayed up the entire night reading all seventeen chapters. *hands you a cup of coffee* i o u a name, HI, what's your LPU username? And two warnings: there is quite a bit of profanity in the beginning of the chapter, as you will soon come to read for yourself. Oh, and I dis the Rugrats later on in the chapter, so don't flame me if you like the Rugrats; no offense to them is meant. Don't say I didn't warn you._

**Katie's POV**

Chapter Eighteen: Life Has Gone To The Frogs

_"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"_ Oliver roared, lunging for Mike, who suddenly looked positively puny compared to the former. Mike only had time to remove his lips from mine and give a nervous sort of profane squeak before Oliver's hands made contact with his throat, and the two fell grappling to the ground.

I cried out as my head struck a nearby medicine cabinet; I had been flung aside by Mike like a rag doll in his panic and should rightly have been utterly pissed at him – whatever happened to fucking _chivalry, for Merlin's sake – but all I could think about at that moment was the pain I was in. I could hear Oliver and Mike screaming at each other, the pharmacist screaming at them, a little girl screaming at the blood that was apparently dripping from some sort of hole in my head…it all seemed to blur together into a big screaming hellhole._

"Get the fuck off me!" Mike hollered, slamming a fist into Oliver's stomach and then into his groin. Oliver cried out, releasing Mike, who immediately pounced on the other taller and better-built young man and started pounding on him as hard as he could. All this time I could only cry and wish I had the strength to pull Mike off Oliver, but my head was spinning and I just kept screaming at them to stop, because it was the only thing I could do…

The pharmacist had already called the police but Oliver and Mike still wouldn't stop wrestling with each other, grabbing at anything they could – as I had another flash of black I heard Mike scream as Oliver slammed him into a wall and the little girl began bawling her head off, her mother trying her very best to console her daughter. Sirens were already beginning to sound in the distance, and now only one thought was keeping me going:

_Don't let Oliver get arrested. Stop lying here like a baby; get him out of here before he's fucking arrested!_

"Oliver," I managed to gasp, scrambling to my feet and ignoring the sudden wave of nausea I felt; I stumbled over to the two and immediately grabbed hold of his raised right arm, pulling, "Get out of here!"

He ignored me; merely wrenched his hand out of my grasp and let another punch fly. Mike crashed into a shelf; he immediately jumped back up again for more.

"_Oliver! _I mean it, _get the fuck out of here!_" I screamed again, this time grabbing him by the shoulders and turning him round to face me. Nothing prepared me for what he did right then: he slapped me.

I reeled back in shock, letting go of him; even Mike knew better than to attack Oliver while his back was turned. I could still feel the sting of his hand on my cheek, and I knew it would leave a bruise. Tears were blurring my already distorted vision of him as he just continue to glare at me.

"Oliver…"

"_NO! _Shut the _fuck up, Katie! Why are you fucking doing this to me?! When all I've given you is my love, my patience, my time, my _heart…_and everyone told me to give it up because they said you would never feel the same way about me, but I DIDN'T! Do you even know why? _Do you even know why?? _Because I had _faith _in you! And I could see _oh-so-fucking-clearly_ that you felt the same, but you were just so fucking intent on disillusioning yourself, on hurting yourself that you never said or did anything! And your friends could see it too, they gave _so much_ to you, _did so fucking much _for you and you just pushed them aside! But all through this __I kept loving you, and I never stopped because I knew you did too – and now I come here all the way for you, _on Christmas_, and I see you – I see you –"_

He broke off here, letting out a choked sob and I realized that he was almost as close to tears as I was.

"Oliver," I said, moving towards him and placing a hand on his shaking arm before he could get started again, "I swear Mike and I never did anything, it was nothing, it was –"

"DON'T TOUCH ME, KATIE!" he screamed, flinging my hand off him.

I stared at him, he stared at me, Mike and the rest of the pharmacy stared at us – if this were any other time and I was any other person in any other place I would have remarked that this was beginning to look very much like a staring buffet.

As my first tear finally rolled down my bruised cheek, he said, shaking, "_Life isn't one of your romance novels, Katie._"

And he turned and left.

Left the pharmacy, with Aisle 6 totally and completely trashed.

Left the onlookers, gaping in disbelief at bloody teenagers and their love lives these days.

Left Mike, who had slumped down onto the floor, cradling his sore head.

Left me, standing all alone, and worst of all – knowing that everything he had said was right.

All my parents had to do was look at me and I cringed. They were disappointed in me. I could tell.

I HATE when my parents get disappointed.

At least Karé wasn't looking at me. In fact, he was looking everywhere _but at me._

Believe me, considering how my parents were looking at me at that moment, this was still considered an improvement.

"Katie," my mom began.

I sighed and looked down at the familiar teal carpet of my living room, bracing myself inwardly for the attack. __

"Katie, we just want you to know that we don't blame you at all."

I blinked and looked up. Well, that was certainly something new.

"But we DO want you to know that we are still very disappointed in you."

Ah, shit, back to the carpet again. I _knew _it was too good to be true.

"Katie, you're a young woman now. Men are going to be fighting over you for the rest of your life."

I wish.

"You can't honestly expect to survive in life if there is a repeat performance of this morning's occurrence every time that happens, now can you?"

Well, I could charge onlookers the next time – Muggles seem to make a fortune off that wrestling thing that they've got going on so I don't see why – okay, okay. Maybe not such a good idea.

"Look. We don't know what exactly happened back at the pharmacy. All we know is that they called us there to pick you up because it was very plain to see that you were not in any condition to walk back home by yourself. So honestly, Katie, we can't do much scolding because – frankly, because we don't have a clue what happened, other than the fact that Oliver and Michael were arguing over you –"

"- and also that we now owe the pharmacy eighty quid – _ow__!" my dad yelped as my mom elbowed him._

"You know," Karé suddenly spoke up; the three of us turned to look at him in surprise, we had almost forgotten he was still sitting there, "the both of you aren't doing much good. Might I suggest you two leave me alone to give her some brotherly advice? You know us young people – we tend to relate to each other."

"Oh, and what are we?" dad said, insulted, rising to the occasion, "Old fuddy duddies?"

Mom turned to him, deadpanned.

"Dear, you do realize you just used the phrase 'fuddy duddy'."

Dad paused to reflect on this, then said, "Oh, dear," and left the room. My mom followed suit.

I closed my eyes and finally allowed myself to collapse onto the floor, sinking into the warm carpet, which was all I had wanted to do ever since I had walked in. I could feel Karé coming and lying down next to me; I sighed, wondering what kind of utter nonsense he was going to say and already wondering how much of a chance I had of getting myself out of this.

There was silence, a sigh, and finally, "You screwed up bad, sis."

"_Ugh, _don't think I don't _know that!" I exclaimed, frustrated, and sat up because I just didn't feel like being next to him any more. "And if all you're planning on doing is preaching about the one hundred and one things that I've done wrong, then you're not much better than mom and dad, are you?"_

Karé lifted an eyelid to look at me, then closed it again.

"Merlin's beard, you're impossible," I groaned and got up, fully intending to get some alone time in my bedroom.

"Merlin? What, that old guy? Isn't he dead??" Karé mumbled. "I'm trying to help you here, and all you can talk about is some dead wizard and his beard?"

I rolled my eyes even though I knew he couldn't see me, and snorted for good measure. "Help me, my ass. _Brothers."_

I stalked off for the stairs and heard him say extra loudly, "_Witches."_

As I thumped my way up the stairs, the idea of being able to relax and think in my bedroom – _alone _– seemed to grow even more and more perfect with every step I took. The second I stepped within the walls of my castle, my fortress, I slammed the door shut and locked it, immediately jumping onto my bed and lay there. I had barely closed my eyes for five seconds when I heard a knock on the door.

"Leave the fortress!" I yelled. "Immediately! Or I will be forced to send my troops out and sit on you!"

The knocking continued; I rolled over onto my stomach, still determined to not open my eyes. Merlin, I had to sort this out. I didn't give a damn about Mike, really – other than the fact that the next time I saw him I would beat him up for stealing my first kiss from me in the most _unromantic way possible – the real dilemma was Oliver. A knock was heard again, this time accompanied by a soft voice – "Katie? Katie, are you there? Katie?" Knock, knock, knock. I groaned. Oh, Merlin, not Aderyn, not now… "Go away, honey, I'm not here!" I called, not even caring that I wasn't making any sense._

There was a pause, then came Aderyn's voice again: "But then where are you?"

"I'm in the kitchen!"

Another pause, and then I heard Aderyn's footsteps going down the staircase. Thank Merlin, I thought she would never leave. Now, back to Oliver…

_What had I done??_

No matter how hard I strained my memory now, I couldn't remember half of what he had said to me a mere hour ago. Something about me disillusioning myself, about Lene and Angie… The one thing that stood out clearly in my mind, separated from the abstract blur that was everything else, was his last sentence to me: "_Life isn't one of your romance novels._"

Is that what I've been looking for?

Without even realizing it, have I been looking for that fairytale, that perfect romance that just seems to crop up effortlessly in every single romance novel I read?

I don't even know myself.

But life really isn't one of my romance novels, is it? Have I just been so jaded this entire time that I just never saw that? Have I been hurting all the people around me who love me so dearly all this time and never realized it? Have I –

"Kaaaaaatie?"

Aderyn.

Oh, what the hell.

I slowly made myself get up from my comfortable position on the bed, walked over to the door and opened it, to reveal a very confused-looking little girl standing there.

"Katie," she began, biting her lip, "I – I went to the kitchen to look for you but you weren' there, so I came back to the person who wasn' you but told me that you were in the kitchen anyways, an' – an' – you're here after all, but you shouldn' be because the person said you weren' –" she broke off, looking confused.

I immediately felt guilty for doing whatever it was I had done to her; I pulled her into the room, closing the door after her. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I'm just having a really bad day…"

Together we sank onto my bed; she immediately nestled her head on my lap and stared up at me with her hazel-brown eyes.

"What's wrong, Katie?"

I sighed, twisting a lock of her wavy hair around my finger. "Nothing important, honey."

Aderyn bit her lip, then asked, "But then why are you so sad?"

"What makes you think I'm sad, Renie?"

"I can tell. I'm five now, you know," she proclaimed proudly, holding up five fingers.

I smiled despite myself. "Yes you are," I replied, and kissed her forehead. She grinned at me and I felt all my sadness and anger melt away. "Well, it's about a boy –"

"Eeeew. Cooties," Aderyn said, wrinkling her nose.

"This boy doesn't have cooties, Rene. His name is Oliver, and –"

"Oliver? _I _know Oliver! He came to our house just now! He's haaandsome," she said, giving me a silly grin and closing her eyes dreamily.

I looked at her in surprise. "Here? He came _here? When?"_

"I said! Weren't you listening to me?" she crossed her arms grumpily. "Just now. He was looking for you an' I told him you had just run out with a frien' and he said okay! I like his voice…" she cooed, closing her eyes again, undoubtedly to daydream about her new crush.

I had to bite my tongue to resist the urge to cuss in front my younger sister right then, but it was very, very hard. _Of course! The bird! That bird Mike had seen hadn't been a bird at all – it must have been Oliver arriving on his broomstick! __Curses, curses, curses, a million and one curses on your family, Michael Bennington…_

"What's wrong, Katie?" Aderyn asked. She tugged on my hair when she didn't get a reply from me. When I still didn't reply, she gave an extremely hard tug, eliciting a loud, "OW!" from me. Seemingly satisfied, she got up from my lap and arranged herself into a cross-legged sitting position opposite me. "What about Oliver?"

"Well, honey, it's like this –"

And I proceeded to explain everything to her, devoid of certain occurrences, of course, even though I knew she probably wouldn't understand half of what I was saying. It just felt so good to finally get everything out there to someone who wouldn't judge me, who wouldn't tell me I was wrong. At the end of it all, I leant back against my bedpost, feeling exhausted but oddly light, as if a huge weight had been taken off my shoulders.

Which is when my five-year-old sister grabbed my beloved stuffed frog – the one I had had with me ever since I was her age – and bonked me over the head. Hard.

"Hey, what was that for?!"

Aderyn shook her head vigorously.

"Katie, you're stupid!"  
Huh?

A five-year-old little girl is telling me that I have a mental deficiency?

_COME ON!!!_

Before I could say anything, though, Aderyn interrupted me, which was probably a good thing seeing as my next sentence would have contained the words "cartoons", "violent" and "banned". And then I would never have heard the end of it for dissing the almighty Rugrats. Why Muggles even watch a show with such crappy animation about a bunch of BABIES still continues to amaze me.

"If you know you like him and he knows you like him and everyone knows you like him then why don't you just _tell _him you like him? He's not gon' come back here and say hello to me until you tell him somethin' so you should 'cause you're smart and smart older sisters don't do stupid things like not tell Oliver that they like him even if they think they don't like you likin' him and him likin' you but him not thinkin' you like him 'cause you aren't _doing anything!"_

…

She's trying to speak to me, I know it!

When I didn't reply after a few minutes-long silence that mostly consisted of my muddled brain trying to sort out what she had just said to me, she bonked me over the head with Mr Froggie again. I grabbed my frog from her, irritated. "Stop doing that!"

"I will when you stop being stupid!" Grab, bonk.

"Stop bonking me with Mr Froggie; he's very delicate!" Grab.

_"I will when you stop being stupid!_" Bonk yet again.

"Look, Renie," I said, at my wit's end, grabbing Mr Froggie back from her – _poor Mr Froggie!_ – "I know I've made a few mistakes, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid. I –"

"Yes you are."

And she grabbed Mr Froggie, ran to the bathroom and held the stuffed toy over the toilet bowl.

Okay, that's it, I am going to SUE THE RUGRATS FOR TURNING MY ONCE-ANGELIC SISTER INTO A FROG-EATING MONSTER!

"Honey," I said slowly, getting off the bed slowly, and walking towards her slowly. The key here was not to make any sudden movements – could you tell?

"Honey, give my froggie back."

Aderyn shook her head obstinately and declared, "No."

Oh, tough girl, huh? Huh? _Huh?_

"Aderyn, _please _give Mr Froggie back?"

She shook her head again. "Not until you promise me that you're gonna tell Oliver that you like him and you think he's really really handsome."

"_I'm not f– _honey, I'm not doing that…"

Mr Froggie moved an inch closer towards the seemingly innocent hole that would become a swirling vortex of doom with a simple tug of Aderyn's little hand.

"Please please please give me Mr Froggie," I begged. Oh Merlin, my five-year-old sister is bossing me around – I lead a sad life indeed.

"Not until you say the magic words…" she sang.

"I've already said please, so will you please – aha there it is again –"

"Nuh-uh." She shook her head again. "Not 'please'."

I took a wild guess.

"Rugrats?"

"I don't watch the Rugrats! What do you think I am, a kid?!"

Um, yeah?

Aderyn rolled her eyes – _are little kids allowed to roll their eyes?! _– and said, "You have to say 'I promise'."

"I promise to what?" I asked, baffled.

"You promise to tell Oliver that you like him and that you think he's really really handsome! On second thought, make that good-looking. You think he's really really good-looking," she replied gleefully.

"But I don't!"

"Now you do." When she didn't receive a reply from me she said loudly, "Say it, or Mr Froggie goes down the hole."

You know, she was really enjoying this too much.

I mumbled a few unintelligible words; Mr Froggie became _that much nearer to his untimely demise; and I quickly caved in._

"Okay, okay, fine! Merlin, now _give me back my frog!_"

I grabbed Mr Froggie from her and this time she didn't put up any resistance, simply gave me an innocent grin and left my bedroom with what I suspected was an extra bounce in her step.

I looked down at Mr Froggie, who continued stared up at me blankly with his glass eyes.

I thought about what I had just promised Aderyn.

Curse you, Tommy Pickles.

A/N: Awww, poor Mr Froggie. He shall never live the psychological trauma down. Credit for "She's trying to speak to me, I know it!" goes to Finding Nemo; "Say it, or Mr Froggie goes down the hole," goes solely to The Great One, otherwise known as Mike Shinoda. And the star of the second half of the chapter – Mr Froggie, not Aderyn – belongs, of course, to Joe Hahn, forever and always, even if Mike DID kill Froggie in the end. ::sniff:: And let us have a moment of silence for Mr Froggie. … And now that THAT'S done, I'm off. The review button is your friend! =)


	19. Bug Eyed Kid

A/N: Hello all! Yes, you're not the only ones who realize I've been gone for a very (very, very) long time. I'm taking a major exam this October and honestly, I'm just trying to be a good girl - actually finishing my homework and major things like that. Also, I've got a new computer so I'm not really sure how to work this thingÉwho knows what kind of screwed up formatting FFN is going to turn this document into, but oh well, I'll take my chances. Enjoy. =) EDIT: Ah. It appears FFN doesn't agree with this computer. Or maybe it's just my browser. Sorry for any discrepancies. (I can't type Kare's name properly because it turns out like this: KarŽ.)

**Katie's POV** Chapter Nineteen: Bug-Eyed Kid 

Oh dearie dearie dearie dearie dearie me.

Ohhhhhhhhh dearie dearie dearie dearie dearie me.

"Katie, if you walk any slower I'm going to roll over and flatten you with this thing," Kare said, bumping me slightly with the trolley he was currently rolling along.

"Flatten good. School bad," I mumbled back, barely paying any attention to him. Flatten good. Flatten pretty. Flatten a truly wonderful experience.

Kare rolled his eyes and muttered, "You are so _weird_," before overtaking me, accidentally-on-purpose dropping one of my suitcases off the trolley. "Whoops."

I should have given him a right slap, really, but my mind was much too preoccupied with the thought of having to face Oliver again. Oh, and also with that Tiny Little Promise Aderene made me take a mere few days ago. Speak of the devil, I suddenly felt a tugging on my shirt and looked down to see Aderene looking up at me with wide, staring eyes.

"KATIE, AREN'T YOU GON' PICK UP YOUR PANTIES?" she screamed.

Yes, screamed, because little kids never do things quietly.

Ergo, we can all happily concur that the entire damn train station (including myself) realized that the suitcase that had just fallen onto the floor so accidentally had really contained every single piece of underwear I have ever owned...yes, even my big white lacy grandmother knickers.

"_Oh...my...dear...frickin...piece of toast..._" I muttered, turning bright red and immediately stumbling to pick up all my scattered_..._er, personal belongings.

"Er, I beg your pardon," a motherly-looking lady I had never seen before in my life said, walking up to me as I scrambled for my things on my hands and knees, "Where did you get this particular bra? I've been looking for one just like it for five whole years_..._" I looked up to see her holding out a red-and-black lace bra that was one of my favourites. "Uh_..._I'll take that, thank you," I quickly said, reaching out to grab the bra from her.

At least, that was what was supposed to happen, but the only thing was that she refused to let go. She just kept clutching onto it like it was her life support with a scrunched-up_..._moose-like face.

Interesting analogy, really. I've never seen a scrunchy-yet-determined-looking moose before.

"Merlin's beard, _take it_ if it's so bloody important to you," I finally said, giving up the tug-of-bra. I gathered up the rest of my assorted undergarments, dumped them in my suitcase again and stalked off, leaving many stares and the lady saying, "Beard? What beard? Do you mean 'bra'? As in 'Merlin's bra'? _..._Who's Merlin?" behind me.

I drew closer to the divider between Platforms 9 and 10 where my father was waiting for me. "It certainly took you long enough. The rest have already gone through, come on, let's go," he urged, and we both stepped through the divider into Platform 9 3/4.

Everything was quite as I remembered it to be. All my friends loitering around the platform doing nothing in particular, laughing and talking and acting like everything was right in the world.

Ah, but everything was NOT right in the world.

But I shall forgive them, because they do not realize that the shadow of Tommy Pickles hangs over us all.

Mom was looking around the platform for something or someone; Aderene was standing next to her, but Kare was nowhere in sight. He could take that trolley of his and run himself over with it for all I cared.

"Where are your friends?" Mom asked.

What, am I supposed to know?

"Katie, where are they?"

Oh, apparently I am.

"They're_..._well, they're here, for starters."

Mom gave me a highly sarcastic look and said equally sarcastically, "Oh, wonderful." She turned to face the empty air beside her. "Hello, Adelene, Angelina! And how are you two doing today? Oh, yes, my begonias are blossoming beautifully. How is your mother, Lene? Would either of you care for a cup of tea?"

"Frankly, Mrs. Bell, I've just had lunch," a sudden voice cut in. We all turned around to see a grinning Angelina standing there.

"Oh - Angelina!"

"I told you so," I muttered inaudibly. Angelina flashed me a grin and continued, "Kare's already put Katie's stuff into our compartment. I think we'd better get in," this was addressed to me," the train's about to leave. I'll see ya, Renie."

Aderene flashed her an innocent grin before turning to hug me. "Bye bye, Katie," she said loud enough for everyone to hear her, then whispered in my ear, "Don't forget your promise_..._"

Oh, believe me, Rene. I won't.

***

"Her?! No way," Lene said, waving away the ridiculous theory I had just put before her and Angie. "I think you've snapped."

"I think you're high," Angie chimed in.

"I'm telling you, that kid's a _Nazi!_ She tried to kill Mr. Froggie! What kind of sick, sadistic kid does that?? A _Nazi child_, that's who!"

Adelene stared.

Angelina stared.

Bug-Eyed Kid stared.

Who's Bug-Eyed Kid, you ask??

I don't know. I just felt like saying that.

Ahem.

"Well, I for one think this promise of yours might actually do us all some good," Lene announced. "Oh, don't look at me like that!! Oliver very obviously likes you but he hasn't done anything - much - about it so far because you've been so stupid. But now, since you've been Enlightened, you can just go skip off to loverboy and tell him exactly how you feel and everything will be peachy dandy. Angie, I just said 'peachy dandy'. Please slap me." Slap. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Angie said and smiled at me. "Want one, too?"

"Uhnothanks," I quickly replied.

Angie shrugged. "Suit yourself."

We sat in silence for a while as I pretended to reflect on my thoughts. You see, this was the only way I was going to be able to get them to shut up. In a way, I supposed they all were right - yup, even Aderene. I can't believe a little kid who watches Rugrats has a higher Intelligence Quotient than I do. How utterly and completely embarrassing.

Well, that'll just be my little secret.

"Hey, Katie, I was just wondering_..._how do we know you're going to end up fulfilling your promise to Renie? I mean, for all we know you're just not gonna do it," Angelina suddenly spoke up.

Ah.

If I had been devious enough to derive a meticulous plan, that would have been it. There's one escape route gone.

Dammit.

"You know what? You're gonna do it right now!" Lene suddenly exclaimed with the air of one who has just discovered the Law of The Cutest Guys Are Usually Gay.

DAMMIT!

Before I could utter any word of protest, they had kicked me out of the compartment and I was standing all by myself in the train aisle.

All by myseeeeeeelf_..._don't wanna be_..._all by my - sorry.

Well then. I suppose I might as well get cracking. Let's see who's behind Door Number One!

I pulled the first door I saw open to see Fred, George and Lee crowding around a suspicious-looking teacup. "Why, hello, Katie," Fred greeted me amiably. "And to what do we owe this pleasure?"

"Actually, I was looking for a certain tall, handsome Quidditch player. Any -"

"Who, me?" George asked, jumping to his feet.

"No, not _you_. Oliver. Anyone seen him?"

"Oh, I did," Lee replied. "He was with a certain tall, beautiful Ravenclaw, if I do say so myself."

I laughed, asking, "Who, Terry Boot? I saw him earlier on the platform, he's certainly looking a lot more tall and beautiful than I remember him being."

Lee gave me a strange look. "Er, no, I'm not gay? I'm talking about - well, I don't know her name. She's in her fifth year. I overheard her telling Oliver she was in Ravenclaw. And I must say, she's pretty fine_..._"

"Oh, right!" Fred laughed. "Hey, I heard about her coming, where is she? I've gotta check her out_..._"

Lee barely got the words "Next car, second compartment on the left" out before I was off, rushing to mentioned compartment. It couldn't be...he _couldn't _have given up on me...could he?

I reached my destination and was about to knock on the door when it was pulled open. I pulled back and yelped, "Oliver!"

But it wasn't Oliver. Instead, it was a girl about my height, with long, unnaturally straight brown hair, and the greenest eyes I had ever seen. "Oh, sorry, are you looking for Oliver? He fell asleep about half an hour ago - you know how he gets, but I could go wake him up if you want_..._"

Oh, no. If there's anything worse than meeting Miss Perfect the Extreme Bitch, it's meeting Miss Perfect the Nicest Girl In The World.

"Uh_..._no! It's, uh, fine. I was just wondering about some_..._er, Quidditch stuff. I'll just talk to him about it in school. He needs his rest," I smiled weakly.

"Tell me about it," Miss Perfect grinned. "By the way, I'm Lindsay. I'm new here."

Lindsay. Great. Perfect Girl with the Perfect Name.

"Oh, really? That's a nice name. That's a nice sentence you just said right there. And you know what? I've got some nice things to do back in my nice train compartment, so I'll just go now. It was nice to meet you. Have a nice day. Be nice! Use nice punctuation!"

I ran away.

I am calm.

Sigh.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A/N: Mwahahahahahaha! I am done with the chapter. You know the drill_..._read, review, tell all your friends about my story, pray that I update soon. =) Thanks for reading, people!


	20. Boss, Floss, Gloss, Moss, Albatross

A/N: Aah. shields self from angry readers Sorry. Cringe. Good news is, though, that exams are over and holidays are beginning very soon (like two days soon). Thanks so much for all the e-mails I got during downtime...pissed-off demands for updates included. You people motivate me; feel the love. Heeeeeeere's Katie!

Katie's POV 

Chapter Twenty: Boss, Floss, Gloss, Moss, Albatross

_This is the first day of my last days._

"But it's Friday.

_I built it up, now I take it apart. Climbed up real high, now fall down real far._

"Sounds painful.

"Angelina!

_No need for me to stay._

"If you stay in this miserable depressing rut a second longer I am going to stuff my foot where the sun doesn't shine -

"Stop it!

_The last thing left, I just threw it away._

"Damn right you did. What were you, stoned?

"Angelina Johnson!

"What?!

"You're not helping Katie feel any better!

"Oh, yeah? And how would you know?

"Katie, are you feeling any better?

"No.

"AHA!

"Because the both of you aren't listening to my masterpiece.

"Oh. Sorry, go on.

"That's not a masterpiece, that's a piece of 

_ANGELINA!_

After Lene had finished beating the crap out of Angie Ð well, really she only hit her on the head with a pillow and proclaimed, "I beat the crap out of Angie!" and I was too depressed to say anything otherwise, I decided that my heartbreaking poem of tragedy and soul-crushing despair fell slightly short of the masterpiece mark and proceeded to burn it to a crisp with a brisk, _Aestos!_".

I looked over at Angie and Lene, both furiously scribbling on separate pieces of parchment in a bid to outdo each other in a poetry-writing competition.

Apparently, I am "their inspiration".

If only I could inspire myself that easily.

How did this competition get started, you ask? You know, I'm not even sure if I remember. Before this we were all sitting down trying to hatch sneaky master plans to get Oliver back Ð well maybe not all of us, maybe it was just the other two as I was too busy wallowing in my depressing poetry. And then the other two got into an argument because Lene told Angie to "shut your trap, you don't know what a masterpiece even is do you?", which led to Angie's "Oh you're one to talk, I could write sonnets around you so THERE, lame-hand", then "What kind of insult is lame-hand? You big slab of beef, you can't even speak properly let alone write", leading to "Well what's big slab of beef supposed to be then? A prize-winning ode to meat products?", and all this led to "I challenge youÉto a DUEL TO THE DEATH! With QUILLS!

Oh, right, that's how this got started.

Well it's not like anything they'll write will ever be as good as I could cook up in a moment of my darkest misery. That's why poets are so depressed all the time, you see, pain breeds words that rhyme.

I think I shall become a highly emotional poet for good. I will walk around with a permanent frown on my face, and black mascara with black lipstick and black nail polish and perhaps I'll even magick my wand black. Then I will be able to cry my heart out about Oliver leaving me for somebody who's going to make him very happy by having their beautiful, perfect, round, perfect, rosy, perfect, little, _perfect_, children and nobody will be able to stop me. So HAH.

Something tells me that maybe I shouldn't have incinerated my poem after all. I should have thrown it into a corner of the room! It would get mouldy and dusty as the years go by, unnoticed by all Ð and then one day, when I am long gone, a young witch or wizard with the Burning Soul of a poet in the very Slough of Despond that I am in at this very moment would find it, and be inspired by my words that would lead Future Young Depressed Poet of unspecified gender to greater things, like Recycle, Reduce and Reuse.

That will be the title of my next masterpiece.

Or perhaps Let's Sock That Ravenclaw Bitch.

Catchy.

"You guys, I'm not sticking around for this," I announced, getting up from my bed. "I'm going to go find that Lindsay girl and teach her who's boss." With a capital B. Boss.

"A rhyme that words with boss...I mean a word that rhymes with Ð floss!" Lene muttered distractedly.

"Or albatross," Angie volunteered, rather unhelpfully.

Nobody knows the trouble I've seen, nobody knows the sorrow. Because they're all too busy talking about albatrosses.

"See you on the flipside," I said to no one in particular, and left the room.

I stepped through the portrait of the Fat Lady to immediately be accosted by a beaming, shiny vision of sugar and honey and everything sweet.

"Hello," big smile, "will you purchase one of these magical cookies in support of my new donation drive to aid unwanted house-elves and give them jobs at Hogwarts?" More big smiles, gleam gleam shine shine somebody give this girl a toothpaste endorsement already.

"So...magical cookies, huh? What happened with that other drive you had going on Tuesday?

Barely a week at Hogwarts and already Lindsay's organizing her second donation drive.

"Oh, that was a GIGANTIC success, all thanks to the LARGELY cooperative student community at Hogwarts, who I thank HUGELY for their TREMENDOUS effort!

I would like to kick you BIGLY. Got a problem?

"Oh, and you know," Lindsay said in a sudden hushed tone with a conspiratorial wink, "these cookies aren't _really _magic. I just call them that because we all know the feeling of magic in our hearts that we get when we realize we've helped a poor soul in distress! Love, world peace and harmonyÉafter all, aren't those what magic's all about?

And I thought it was about waving a wand around and saying a few magic words.

"Lindsay! Hey!

"Oliver!

Crap!

Oliver stopped short when he saw me. He looked away.

"H-hey, Oliver," I managed to bring myself to mumble.

"Oh, you two know each other!" Lindsay exclaimed, grinning. "That's great, I had no idea! Wait, you're Katie Bell, right? Well, just in case you don't know, I'm Linds- "

"Linds, what are you doing here?" Oliver interrupted. He didn't look too happy to see me, and suddenly I would have given anything in the world to make him give The Look to me again.

Lindsay looked affronted. "I'm collecting donations for my new drive. You of all people should know. And I was kinda here to see you, too. Do you want to head down for an early dinner? Katie, you're welcome to join us, too," she said graciously.

"Oh, you know what, no thanks, I was just going to -" "Katie, ma'am? Mister Oliver?

I turned, astonished, to see a familiar-looking kid who had seemed to have materialized out of nowhere.

"Beggin' your pardon, but the deputy wishes to see the two of you.

"The deputy?" Oliver repeated.

"Yesum, Professor McGonagall, sir.

And with that, Mr Midget Extraordinaire saluted us and went about his everyday business, whatever that may be.

There was a pregnant pause.

"...Wow," Lindsay finally said. "He certainly was short.

Oliver and I walked the way to Professor McGonagall's in silence. It wasn't one of those nice, comfortable silences you always seem to see in movies, either. It was nowhere near nice and nowhere near comfortable and nowhere near South Africa or even London, but that's another story.

Upon reaching our mutual destination, there was a bit of even more awkward silence as we mentally sparred over who should knock on the door. Finally we both reached for the doorknocker, which resulted in our hands touching for a second, which is exactly what we had been trying to avoid in the first place.

Further embarrassment was prevented by the sudden opening of the door by McGonagall herself, who quickly ushered us in.

"Some nasty business going on with the first-years...don't know how someone could be so stupid as to mistake a head for a cabbage...and who in the name of Merlin is afraid of cabbage anyway..." McGonagall muttered vacantly as she swished over to her table and sat down to face us.

I'm going to refrain from telling her I've always had a lifelong fascination and fear of lettuce, because I've never been able to tell the difference between lettuce and cabbage and I'm assuming she can't either.

"Well," McGonagall said, leaning forward slightly, "How were your holidays?

Best days of my life.

"Wonderful, Professor, thanks," Oliver smiled at her.

_Excuse me? _He'll smile at a wrinkly old ha - er, elderly witch who has chosen to forego regular facial injections and stimulants - very honorably, I might add - and he won't smile at me?

I'm young!

I'm bold!

I'm beautiful!

I'm in LOVE with him!

I mean, I have a bad itch. Er.

Awkward.

"I called the two of you here today to discuss your tutoring sessions," McGonagall continued.

Maybe she's upset because she found out about the tiny, little, minute, miniscule, insignificant detail that, you know, we haven't been having those tutoring sessions since school started.

Professor McGonagall looked up at me and stared at me for a few really, _really _weird moments before she said, "Miss Bell, as of today you shall not be required to tutor Mr Wood any longer.

"Mr Wood shall be receiving assistance from another student who, as he has told me, has already consented to assist him. However, I would like to thank you for your sacrifice in these previous months and I am sure he feels the same way. Good luck with your N.E.W.T.s, dear - I am sure you will do well.

I'm not sure which is more shocking; the fact that Oliver himself personally requested for a change of tutors from Professor McGonagall, or the fact that Minervie herself just called me "dear".

McGonagall waved her hands in a kind of "shoo, I've got random academic matters involving cabbage to take care of" manner, so Oliver and I both stood up and took our leave.

I closed the door behind me numbly, thoughts still swirling around in my head. Did Oliver really hate me that much now? Had I caused him some sort of irreparable emotional damage? Who was this new tutor of his? And most importantly of all, _what did cabbage have to do with academia?_

"You know..." Oliver suddenly said awkwardly, breaking the silence that seemed to be token now whenever he and I were together. Which wasn't very often, given that he and I were both avoiding each other like the plague to the power of ten, but still.

"...Lindsay's a really good tutor.

..._Really._

"She was top of her class in her old school and everything. So, I'm in, uh, good hands and all, just in case you care. Which you don't. I mean uh. Well. You know, Lindsay's...she's...nice. And I uh, you know, she was nice enough to, you know.

He keeps saying that, but really I know I don't know whatever it is he knows I'm supposed to know.

Oliver seemed to be searching for something else he could say.

"...Did you hear about that Hufflepuff who mistook her friend's head for cabbage and turned it into a head of lettuce?

A/N: Eeee! I finished it! I'm as surprised as you are, trust me. Since the chapter's now over, I'd like to apologize for the late-ness of it all. Hopefully I'll put up a few more chapters during the holidays I'm having right now. I'll need something to do, right? Please review...I'm afraid you've all forgotten me by now. And may I just say I HATE FFN's new formatting thing? I apologize for any inconvenience you may have experienced trying to read this, because I sure as hell experienced inconvenience attempting to upload this. I can't even type asterisk asterisk asterisk to separate different parts of the chapter any more. Major sigh. Later, all.


	21. The Title Before The Storm

A/N: Ican'tsendyoulovelypeoplee-mailsanymore. ...Bad news out of the way! - Heh, no really, I'm really sorry but my entire address book was wiped out and it would require way too much time and effort to reconstruct the entire thing. Maybe one day I'll get around to it...but for now you'll just have to make do with FFN's Author Alert system, or just regular checking in with the page. It's probably less annoying, too, ne? Good news now: I've got a new fic up! More on that at the end of the chapter...read it or I'll be very sad. ( The idea I'm using in this chapter is actually a story I intended to write...very much a humour fic, and so hilarious in my head. It actually involved all our favourite canon characters...a Draco Malfoy scene sticks out particularly in my mind (see if you can spot the Draco in the beginning!)...HOWEVER. It looks like it'll be used in this fic instead. Excuse any crappiness near the end because my sister was watching Ayashi no Ceres next to me full-blast the entire time. Huh. Kids.

Katie's POV 

**Chapter Twenty-One: The Title Before The Storm**

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****

"You're _kidding!_"

"No bloody way."

"He's lost his mind!"

"Wait 'till my father hears about this -"

"We're all doomed!"

"Merlin's beard, we're so friggin' screwed..."

"_I don't know how to do my own laundry!!!_"

Angie sank down in her seat morosely as all around us, the Great Hall was buzzing with all kinds of emotions; ranging from sad, to miserable, to mildly aggravated, to really, fecking _pissed_.

Fred used a paper napkin to fan his girlfriend concernedly as he said, "He's bleeding lost his mind now. He really has."

Mumbles of agreement from all around the Gryffindor table. Some screams, too.

"I trust," Professor Dumbledore said, immediately gaining the school's attention again, "that this will be _quite_ the experience. Perhaps a more valuable one than you could imagine. Therefore, my dear students, I do encourage you to enjoy the meal you are about to have with the utmost passion one gets in the springtime of his or her life, as this will be your last catered meal for a period of time."

He paused.

His eyes twinkled with _evil_.

"Good eatin'!"

And the food prepared by the house-elves appeared, and immediately the Massacre began.

The thousand or so students of Hogwarts dug themselves into the food like they had never eaten before; furious battles for the last leg of chicken were enacted with fury; jowls dripped and a few jaws snapped due to the physical limits of man; screams and battle cries were heard as even the weakest of the weak stood up to Meet Their Maker; more and more foodstuff had to be conjured from the depths of Below second after second; food was sprayed into the air as fast as it was consumed by those giant, lumbering, vicious, ravenous beasts of

GOD'S

OWN

CREATION!!!

_I NEED RATIONS!_

Oh, how innocent the minutes leading up to the Massacre had been. Everyone engaged in idle chatter, here and there a stray student finishing up last-minute homework, George and Fred holding a "let's see who can stuff the most condiments into our nostrils" competition, everyone else gagging at the spectacle...when Dumbledore announced that he had a speech to make.

Like butterflies drawn to a flame, I mean moths drawn to a flame, I mean - which ones get burnt to death? - logic says both, dammit...like a fire extinguisher drawn to a flame, which would put out the flame meaning there would be no more flame to work with, DAMN it - bloody SOMETHING drawn to a flame, we all fell silent and turned to hear what he had to say.

"Harken unto me, harken unto me!" Japanese drums played. "Born and raised in ye olde English County's Village of Panserbjorne, I love to eat at the Eee-chee-rah-kooh Ramen noodle café and my name is Albus Du-Dumbledore! And what people call me is..."

"A crazy old coot," Professor Snape said coolly.

"A crazy old coot, and -" ... "No! Not that! The A! Double! D! ...Also known as Attention Deficit Disorder."

Hunh. I wish.

Actually, it went something more like this: "Students, I am about to make an announcement that, I am quite excited to say, will affect all of us here at Hogwarts and our daily lives. It is of my utmost pleasure to announce that due to Miss Hermione Granger of Gryffindor's hardworking efforts, the house-elves will be given a holiday of uncertain period, during which time we shall all be accomplishing the school chores...on our own!! No applause please, thank you. ...Well you didn't have to take it that seriously. ...Some applause? Maybe? ...Anyone? No, Miss Granger, you can't applaud for yourself, I'd advise you not to...ah! Messrs. Potter and Weasley. Fine young men. Now, uh...where was I? Yes, er - they will be sent off to Atlantis via Portkey later tonight, meaning this meal shall be...well, a farewell gift of sorts. All arrangements during their leave shall be taken care of and you will be notified of your new responsibilities tomorrow. I and the rest of the school board and faculty must thank Miss Granger for awakening us to the fact that house-elves DO have rights to paid leave, too. I trust that this will be _quite_ the experience. Perhaps a more valuable one than you could imagine. Therefore, my dear students, I do encourage you to enjoy the meal you are about to have with the utmost passion one gets in the springtime of his or her life, as this will be your last catered meal for a period of time. ..Good eatin'!"

I'm sure you'll agree when I say my version of the speech was the lesser of two evils.

An uncertain period without the house-elves to do the chores?! What on earth is the school board thinking? No one to cook, to clean, to answer to our every will, to cater to our every _need_...

Which reminds me.

"MY casserole! _MINE!_" the normally mild-mannered Alicia screamed, diving across the table at an offending fourth-year who in turn screamed, "_Back off, blondie!_".

Let me get back to you after the last edible meal of my life.

.:21:.21:.21:.

The sun's rays broke the gray clouds and immediately the rainfall was over. The grass below me seemed to rejoice and little flowers began to bloom everywhere. If I turned my head slightly to my right from my position beneath the ash tree I could see a rainbow coming into form...and through all the beauty that surrounded me the one most beautiful thing I could see was his smile.

Oliver's smile, as he sat beside me and smiled at me so happily I thought my heart would burst _for _him...and all I could do was sigh happily and bury myself deeper into his embrace because no words were to be said and none were needed.

I loved him.

And I think he loved me too.

And as the rainbow finally dazzled the people with its full brilliant iridescence Oliver gently placed his hand on my chin and pulled me close towards him, our eyes closing and I leaned forward to taste his -

"_SHIT!!!"_

What?!

"Shit, shit, SHIT! You guys, wake up, we're so friggin' late!"

I blearily opened my eyes to see Lene frantically attempting to pull her robes on and brush her bright hair at the same time.

I barely muttered, "What in the..." before Lene ran up to me with her robes half-on and slapped me on the head.

"Ow! What the hell -"

"Oh, SHIT!" Alicia's voice now cried out from the other end of the dormitory.

"Not you, too, Merlin, what is it with you guys and - SHIT!" My eyes caught sight of my wristwatch lying on my bedside table that currently proclaimed the luminous words, "Damn, you're late."

I immediately joined in the scramble to get ready for classes just as Angelina asked the other girls for the time. It was half past eight.

"Why the hell is it eight thirty?!" she yelled.

"Because, you see, there's this little law of the universe called _time, _and what time does is that -" "No time for talk, Katie! Come on, we haven't even had breakfast," Alicia interrupted before I could get unforgivingly sarcastic.

Somehow we all managed to pull ourselves together in just under ten minutes and ran to the common room, only to find a huge contraption standing where the bookshelves used to be.

"It's a giant...stove," Lene said, slightly confused.

The same fourth-year Alicia had been fighting with for the tuna casserole the night before pushed past us and called over her shoulder, "You'll have to cook. Ingredients are on your right, and I'm late, so if you'll excuse me..."

We all exchanged glances.

"Do you know how to cook?" Angie whispered to me.

"No," I whispered back. "Do you?"

"No."

Hmmm.

"Do _any _of you?" This time hopefully.

"No."

"Nope."

Hmmmmmm.

"Wait!" we all cried out in unison, but it was too late - the fourth-year girl had already gone. We groaned.

"I can't believe we don't know how to cook," Angelina muttered to herself, sinking to the floor. There was an audible rumble from her stomach and the rest of our stomachs followed suit.

"Well," Alicia sighed, "At least I managed to eat that casserole..."

We stared at each other wordlessly for a few moments, and collectively sighed.

"Wait!" I suddenly said, perking right up.

Flashback mode!

"Katie, you're going to have to grow up soon, and that means you're going to have to learn a lot of new things..." my mom said, putting aside the family cookbook to bend down and look me in the eye.

"Ooh, ooh! Do I get to learn to bungee jump?" I squealed excitedly, jumping up and down.

Mom looked taken aback. "Well, no..."

"...To escape from a burning building, then?"

"Um, not exactly..."

My face fell. "Not even a _slightly _burning building?

Mom smiled at me kindly. "Well, I suppose you could if you wanted to...safety issues and all...but I'd really rather you stay home, and safe, with me."

I thought about this for a while, then looked back up at her, smiling again. "That works."

"Well, I tell you what...why don't I teach you how to make your grandmother's lasagna?" my mom said, tweaking me on the nose and reaching for the cookbook again. "It's really easy, and it won't take long."

And now back to your normal programming.

So now, as I stood there in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by three disheveled looking teenage girls and faced with the immense challenge of Making Us Some Breakfast, I realized that - "_Hey. _I _can _cook something."

The others turned to me expectantly. "Well?" they chorused impatiently.

I grinned and gestured at them to sit down. "Don't worry, girls...it's really easy, and it won't take long."

The lasagna was done within ten minutes.

Alicia wrinkled her nose at the plates I placed in front of the girls proudly and asked, "What is _that?_"

I stared at her.

"Uh, lasagna."

The girls stared at the food.

""Don't tell me you've never heard of lasagna," I said, horrified.

"Isn't ten minutes a bit, er...fast for lasagna?" Lene said tentatively.

I shrugged. "Well, I think maybe it might have taken a bit longer than that when my mom taught me how to do it, but the oven's probably magicked or something."

"...Or maybe you just did it wrong," Angelina said, her face and voice deadpan.

"Or MAYBE I'm just a good cook, Angie," I glared at her, then clapped my hands. "Well, eat up, munchkins! Only ten minutes before class!"

I suppose this was the only thing that actually motivated them to pick up the cutlery I had also supplied and eat - although I don't see why, because personally I thought the lasagna looked very appetizing myself.

Soooorta.

Lene and Alicia took their first bites. Angie, muttering something about getting something or other over with, wolfed down the entire plate in seconds.

They'd better like it, or at least pretend to. I _did _put in all that effort after all... It was hard enough finding a substitute for the cheese since there wasn't any left, I suppose because all the other Gryffindors had probably gone with something simple like cheese on toast for breakfast.

Three faces turned green.

I kinda wish I _did _have all the ingredients, though, but at least I found other stuff that looked like them. Okay, okay, so maybe corn wasn't the best substitute for cheese...but they were both yellow at least. Same with the tomatoes and cherries, right?

"...Good," Lene said with a weird sort of look on her face and swaaalllllloooowwwweeeedddd. I wasn't sure if she was going to cry or die.

Colours matter in cooking...don't they?

Judging from the looks on their faces, maybe, just maaaybe I ought to rethink my answer to that question.

"Katie...this _can't _be lasagna," Alicia managed to choke out. She looked rather unwell.

I stared at her blankly. "Well of course it's lasagna, what else could it be?"

There was no reply as Angie suddenly grabbed Alicia's arm.

Funny, why did Angie's face look so green...and pale...the food wasn't that bad, was it?

I forked my share of lasagna and stuffed it into my own mouth.

Holy SHIT.

_Thud._

The three of us stared down at Angie's unconscious body.

Lene looked at me, "We...have...to get her...to the Hospital Wing," already bending down to help Angie up.

I could barely form the words around the evil, evil, evil evil evil penetrating disgusting taste in my mouth.

I.

Felt.

So.

Sick.

Between them, Lene and Alicia managed to help Angie up and they carried her out of the common room with some difficulty, me holding the Fat Lady's portrait open for them.

Sooo.

Sick.

"Ladies?" a familiar voice suddenly said in surprise, and someone halted in front of us. "...What's going on?"

_So..._

_Sick..._

"Oliver, help," Lene groaned, already ready to pass her side of Angie's body over to him.

But Oliver was staring at me.

And I was staring at him.

_I'm going to...I'm going to..._

Oliver took a step towards me, a tentative smile playing on his lips when he realized I wasn't going to pick a fight with him.

_I..._

_So..._

"Katie," he said softly.

I took a step forward. This was it! Everything was going to be fine between us again and I could finally tell him how I feel!

"Oliver," I wanted to say.

"I kinda love you," I wanted to say next.

Riiight around then was when I threw up.

.:21:.21:.21:.

A/N: ...Embarrassing much? Sure sucks to be Katie. First, credits for the chapter (of which there are many) and then we get to talk about **my new story!!! **Er, yes, Katie's twisted version of Dumbledore's speech was inspired by Episode 102 of Naruto (Naruto: Harken unto me! Harken unto me! Born and raised in ye olde Fire Country's Village of Konoha, I love to eat at the Ichiraku Ramen and my name is Uzumaki Na-Naruto! And what people call me is... Sasuke: A clumsy ninja. Naruto: A clumsy ninja...No! Not that!), the term "panserbjorne" belongs to Philip Pullman's amazing His Dark Materials trilogy (it means armored bear, go read the books), and the whole colour-cooking scheme thing entirely belongs to Twilight347 and her Naruto fic. About my new story...it's called Bloodline Lost, and all you have to do to read it is click on my profile...- Please do, I beg of you. I just created it and it desperately needs reviews and criticisms...you know how it is. I personally quite like it myself. So please read and er - I'll update sooner! Blahaha. R&R! )


	22. Chocolate And Quidditch

A/N: Four words: Hey. Don't read ahead. :grins:

Oliver's POV 

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Chocolate And Quidditch**

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Growing up on the emerald isle of Scotland, boys were raised to be men. We learned to cook our own meals. We worked hard for our daily allowances. We were taught good manners and the correct way to woo the opposite sex. We even washed our own kilts.

Somehow, we were never taught how to scrub a stinking pile of vomit out of our school robes.

This shall be one of the first things my future sons shall learn. It must be one of the most important life lessons ever. I don't know how How-To-Be-A-Strapping-Scottish-Man School missed out on it.

"Merlin's beard," Katie whimpered again, wringing the front of her unsoiled robes into a crushed-up mess. "I'm so sorry...I really am...are you sure you don't want me to -"

"Katie," I interrupted, "I'm fine." No I'm not. "I'll wash it myself." _No I bloody well will not!_ "Really." Dammit.

Curse you and your Scottish gentlemanliness, Oliver Fransisco Wood. (Esquire!) Curse you.

"Isn't this one of those times you wish the school hadn't spelled all our uniforms to be magic-resistant?" Angelina said wistfully. "Well, you can't really blame them, after that stunt Fred and George played with those Vanishing Spells of theirs," Adelene said, screwing up her face in disgust at the memory of a group of Slytherin third-years striding into the Great Hall appearing to be butt-naked. Katie made a face - _how cute _- no, wait, I wasn't supposed to be thinking that - but immediately resumed her fretting over my robes.

"Look, Katie," I quickly said, if only to get her to smile again. "It's fine, really - I'll just go change and get it washed later. All it needs is a good soak and a prayer for the house-elves to get back to Hogwarts fast," I grinned.

"Well -" Katie hesitated. "I'll go with you - no, really, I insist-"

"Oliver!" a very familiar voice suddenly said in slight surprise, and I looked up to see Lindsay walking in our little group's direction. Her hair was tied back in a neat ponytail - impeccable, as always - and her robes looked as if they had been ironed six times this morning alone. Impeccable, as always. I stole a glance at Katie, with strands of hair falling into her eyes and looking as if she had just rolled out of bed (which, I was guessing, she probably had) and had to resist the urge to giggle.

In a manly way, of course.

I'm a Scotsman!

"I saved you your favourite cereal...and since you didn't show up I came looking for you...what...?"

"Oh." I gestured to my robes and grinned ruefully at her. "Well, er, this...I kind of got, well, held up..."

I quickly looked over at Katie to reassure her that it really was nothing before she started having a panic attack again - and noticed that she was staring at Lindsay with one of the strangest expressions I had ever seen on a human visage.

It was sort of...a cross between a cat during labour and a giant squid suffering from diarrhoea. (This last expression I recognize because the giant squid had suffered from a particularly nasty bout of diarrhoea during my first year at Hogwarts, after which my sense of smell was never the same.)

Even for Katie, who, you know, was normally quite abnormal, this was really pushing it for her standards.

Before I could ask her what was wrong, though, Lindsay walked right up to me and pulled at the sleeve of my robes. "Here, take it off and go change into another one, I'll go work on this for you -"

_"NO!"_

There was silence. I thought I heard a bird lay an egg in the distance.

"Katie!" Alicia exclaimed as quietly as she could, but seeing as no one else seemed to even be breathing, all of us heard her loud and clear.

Katie looked mortified. She seemed to be searching for something to say, then finally burst out, "Oliver - no, it's okay, Lindsay, I'll get his robes for him -"

And she pointed her wand at me and muttered something under her breath...which caused the Magic-Resistant Charm on my robes to immediately react, turning my robes hot pink and letting out a high, shrill whistle before bursting into flames.

"GAH - MERLIN'S - GAH!" I yelled, immediately undoing the clasp on my robes and flinging them onto the floor. With a quick point of her wand , Lindsay put the fire out, leaving my robes seemingly untouched - barf stains and all.

"...What kind of fire _was _that?" Angelina asked in awe. "It didn't hurt you, did it?"

"No," I scowled, brushing myself off. "It itched."

And I didn't think I needed to tell her where.

Lindsay sighed and picked my robes up gingerly. "Go on, Oliver, I'll take care of this..."

I sighed; right then I was so hungry I just didn't care any more. "Fine, fine...I'll see you later, Linds...ladies..." I mumbled half-heartedly, and turned around to face the Fat Lady's portrait.

I had just opened my mouth to tell her the password when someone tapped my shoulder. I turned around to see Katie, her face now bright red, standing right behind me.

"Merlin, Oliver, I'm sorry -" she quickly said before I could get any words out, "I just wanted to help and I just - I just ended up - turning your robes pink and making you itch in the nether regions and I just - I'm just - I'm really, really sorry!"

Well, HELL YES, you ought to be. I don't know if you've ever experienced itching in your nether regions, or even if you have any nether regions to speak of, but it is not by any means a pleasant sensation! Not at all! So I don't appreciate your magic, and my nether regions don't, either! In fact - why the QUIDDITCH am I referring to my nether regions as my..nether regions?

This is bloody what bloody Katie bloody Bell does to you. She bloody gives you bloody speech bloody impediments. Bloody.

"Oh, Katie, I'm sure it's alright...In fact, you know what, I think you _can_ help!" Lindsay suddenly exclaimed, with a huge beam on her face.

She can?

"Oh, this is just fantastic!" Lindsay beamed radiantly at each of us in turn.

Does this help involve Katie using magic?

"Katie, you'll love this," Lindsay continued, still grinning.

Magic of any sort at all?

"Oliver, so will you!" Lindsay added...still grinning her head off.

This is not looking good.

"Katie, why don't you take over my tutoring session with Oliver this evening? Today was supposed to be our first lesson, but since the two of you never really got to have a final class together, why don't you just take the opportunity to...you know. Bond!"

_What!_

It was only after I thought this that I realized I had said this out loud as well - in unison with Katie, Angelina, Adelene and Alicia. We all stared at Lindsay as if she was crazy, and quite honestly I had no idea how any of the three As were involved in any of this, but apparently they considered themselves personally attached to my personal life somehow.

"Oh, I know, it's such a great idea, isn't it?" Lindsay went on happily, apparently oblivious to the stares we were all giving her. "I'll use the time to soak Oliver's robes in something very non-magical, and since you two never really had the time to say goodbye properly, this would be your perfect opportunity! Katie, I'm sure Oliver would prefer you tutoring him to me, you know," she added with a wink.

"I - er -" I stammered, at a loss for words.

Katie's friends could only stand and stare at what I'm sure they considered the source of their next forty-nine girl talk sessions.

Girl talk.

Shudder.

"Oh, Lindsay...that's very generous of you, but -" Katie began, but was cut off by a beaming Lindsay: "I know!"

And with a cheery wave, she set off on her way to wherever it is permanently happy witches like her go to when they feel like being righteous, trailing my dirty robes behind her.

There was silence once again, and this time I could have sworn I heard an ant burp.

Finally, Angelina spoke up.

"What drugs is that girl on and _where can I get some!_"

.:22:.22:.22:.

I stared at the floor. I stared at my fingernails (darn, one was broken. How utterly unmetrosexual). I stared at the foot of a nearby table. I stared at Neville Longbottom's retreating back as he attempted to hop up the stairs leading to his dormitory - if I wasn't mistaken, he had just managed to step on his own foot somehow - Merlin knows how _that _happened - and he was now wincing in pain with every hop he took. I attempted to lick my nose.

Opposite me, Katie was staring at a paper clip as if it contained the secrets to the universe.

Since Neville had gone, we were now the only people left in the Gryffindor common room. Which meant that our little class was about to begin. Or at least, it was supposed to, but my tutor looked far too preoccupied with a paper clip at that given moment...

"Er...Katie?" I ventured tentatively. Her head jerked up to look at me like she had only just noticed I was there. "Er...I guess we should start now."

She muttered something about a "look" to herself, whatever that was supposed to mean, but then I must have misheard her. Maybe she said...book. Yeah, that makes far more sense.

So I pushed my copy of A Hideously Boring Unending History of Some Crap Wizarding Blokes over to her, and cleared my throat expectantly. (Okay, so that's not what the book was called, but I like to name my books. It gives them a personal touch, you know. And I find my title _so_ much more close to the truth. Scotsmen are honest!)

She stared at the cover of my book for a few seconds, blinked, and then looked back at me. "Oh, you mean you want to - ohhh. Yeah, okay, erm, right...I'm helping...yes, I am..." she mumbled distractedly, and quickly began flipping through the book for something or other.

Roiiiiiight.

If I didn't know her so well, I'd probably be backing my chair away from her right about now. But, you know, she's normal.

But juuust in case.

I winced as my chair made a scraping noise on the parquet floor as I pushed it back.

Katie looked back up at me, frowning slightly. "What are you doing? Here - read this bit on Matilda Gripshaw and I'll give you a test on it in ten minutes," she instructed, pushing the book back over to me.

I nodded and my eyes fell onto the subtopic I was supposed to be studying - but somehow found I couldn't concentrate.

Big fat hairy surprise.

If I had to be honest, I really didn't know how I felt about Katie at that moment. We hadn't really spoken since the incident at Christmas...and I could barely remember what I had yelled at her in the pharmacy but I was sure they mustn't have been anything good. Sure, I had been upset, and for good reason, too. Seeing her with her arms wrapped around that ponce like that...

But then, the very next day, I received an owl from Kare, Katie's brother. It was his parents' owl he had obviously stolen, and in the letter he wrote he explained that Tom or Dick or Harry or Bertha or whatever the hell that ponce's name had been was an old family friend who had just fancied Katie for as long as he could remember. Katie didn't fancy him at all, he said. Or at least he guessed.

(I rather thought that might be true, though, because that Bertha had been one ugly piece of work.)

After that letter, I never really had the courage to go up to Katie and...well, apologize. What was I supposed to say? "I'm sorry, I was just in love with you and wanted to knock some sense into your head. Literally. Same goes with Bertha because YOU. ARE. MINE!"

You see my dilemma.

Anyway, it wouldn't have mattered because Katie obviously didn't feel about me the same way I felt about her. This thought alone killed me so badly that I didn't think I would be able to spend any more time alone with her without wanting to propose marriage or something of the sort - so I had asked Professor McGonagall for a switch of tutors.

Ah, yes, speaking of Lindsay...

"Um, so...I guess Lindsay was really nice to let us have this last session together, huh?" I said weakly, knowing as I said it how completely untrue this was, but all I wanted to do was fill the glaring silence between the two of us.

To my surprise, Katie gave me one of the deathiest glares I had ever seen.

"..Right. _Lindsay._"

I blinked. "What?"

Katie took a deep breath, and pushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. "Yeah. She's..._nice_, alright." Then she muttered so softly I could barely hear it, "So are root canals."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" I interjected a little angrily, feeling annoyed. What right did she have to talk like that about someone she barely knew?

She looked a bit guilty for a second, as if she hadn't been expected to be overheard, but then drew herself up and said clearly, "You heard me. ..Apparently. I don't like her. I don't expect I ever will. I think she's an absolute cow. I don't care if she knows, and I certainly don't care if you know. She's going to die one day of niceness asphyxiation and I can't say I care. And I don't care how close the two of you get, or what you two do when you're together, or how you feel about each other - I don't care at all, and I will not be jealous, and if you two start snogging right in front of me I will simply turn my back on you and walk away because I WILL NOT CARE."

...Que?

"Now _read what you're supposed to and_ _stop overhearing things you're not supposed to overhear._"

With that, she pulled out her wand and conjured herself a large goblet of pumpkin juice, glaring at me the whole time as if daring me to say something. She looked rather dangerous, so I thought it would be wise not to.

I looked down at my book again to read about how Matilda Gripshaw had attempted to tame a chimaera and merely ended up getting her head bitten off, but my head was swimming with entirely unrelated facts.

Katie thought Lindsay was…_what_?

Katie thought Lindsay and I were..._what?_

"Test time!" Katie suddenly snapped, grabbing my book back from me, jerking me out of my thoughts. I was sure not two minutes had passed.

"Question one: When was Matilda Gripshaw born, and what were the unusual circumstances of her birth that led to her campaigning for chimaera rights?"

"Katie, Lindsay and I are -"

"Wrong! Question two: How did the Ministry of Magic react to the Gripshaw Decree of 1552?"

"The both of us are-"

"WRONG! Question three: What was the public's misinformed opinion of Matilda Gripshaw's work in Greece?"

"Katie! You don't -"

"Wrong again question four when will you learn to _leave it_!"

Katie and I stared at each other for a few breathless moments, our chests heaving with the exertion of our screaming match.

"I've had enough," Katie finally said evenly, getting up and turning to go, throwing my book back to me with some difficulty since it was so heavy and nearly hitting my head with it. I wasn't sure if she had bad aim or a very good one.

"Katie."

"You're going to fecking fail History of Magic."

"Katie! _Lindsay - and - I - are - just - friends._"

"Yeah, I'm sure you are," Katie retorted, giving me a withering look. "You bloody liar."

"Okay, you know what?" I replied, and stood up to remind her who was taller than who. I was getting pissed now, and she wasn't doing anything to help matters. "You're right. I _am _lying."

Katie looked like she was about to yell something back in reply, but paused in shock when she registered what I had just said.

"..What?"

"I _am _lying. We're not just friends. We're a lot more than that," I told her.

The look on her face would have broken a few hearts, and I felt a small sense of triumph, that I had finally gotten to her after seventeen years. And then I realized what I had just thought, and felt guilty beyond belief.

What was I doing?

"I'm - I'm g- I don't care. I don't care. Goodnight, Oliver," she finally said in a choked sort of voice. She looked like she was going to cry.

She had reached the foot of the stairs that led to the girls' dormitories by the time I said something.

"Katie."

She paused, her head bowed, her right foot on the first step.

"Katie...we _are _more than friends. Lindsay's my sister."

There was dead silence.

I expected her to say something, do something, so _anything _- but she just stood there, seemingly frozen to the spot.

I had the sudden urge to tell her everything...just everything. I thought I might owe it to her.

I cleared my throat nervously and said, "My parents were really upset when they found out about what happened during Christmas. They'd already been thinking of transferring Lindsay over to Hogwarts for the longest time, because it was so much more convenient for them. Lindsay didn't really mind, either, and told them on her birthday - the second of November, I think I've told you before - that she'd like to go ahead and transfer. So when..._it _happened, they decided to do it and transfer Lindsay, at the very least so she could keep an eye on me. So...that's how she ended up here. She's my sister, and I love her to death and all, but, well... I'm not a big fan of snogging my own sister."

Unlike someone I know, I thought, thinking of Xander.

A few more moments of silence passed, then Katie slowly turned around to face me. Her eyes were rimmed with red and she looked as confused as I felt. Our eyes met and I felt something very much like an electric current flow through my body.

And judging by the look on her face...maybe she felt the same way about me too...?

"I'm sorry," we suddenly blurted out in unison.

And without really thinking about what I was doing, with my head spinning and feeling slightly dizzy, I walked right up to Katie, took her in my arms and kissed her.

It felt as if my world had just turned upside down; stars were exploding in my head and entire universes were being born. I could taste chocolate and Quidditch and everything else good about the world on her, and best of all...she was just Katie. She was just the Katie I knew and loved and at times hated, but these times were few and far between and I somehow just thought while we were standing there with our arms around each other...that she was _the one._

Nobody else for me.

I'll just have me some Katie, please.

.:22:.22:.22:.

A/N::huge gigantic grin: Awww! Yes! They finally got it together! Haha...consider this my gift to you all for being so, _so _kindto me during my long absence. Make no mistake, every single one of your reviews and e-mails was read and appreciated. I'm really sorry for how long it took me to get this to you...and trust me when I say it would have taken even longer if it hadn't been for all your, erm, words of encouragement. And threats of ass-kicking. I have to admit I realized things were going a bit overboard when someone thought my last chapter had really been that, the last chapter of the story (I don't blame you for being annoyed at all, I'd have been pissed at myself too if that had been the ending). So I guess I have to thank all of you for still reading my story after all this time - :hugs muchly: (: I've started a blog in the meantime, which I have to say I update a lot more - I'd love to be able to link you here but FFN is SUCH a bitch about HTML. Check my profile for the link, anyway. Tag me! Let me know what you thought of the chapter (of course, reviews work just as well)! And I think you'll see from my blog where Katie/Oliver get their insanity from. So that's all for now - review, review! Thanks for reading! Love you all! (:


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